Page 5

Oakley

B emused, I stared at the women in front of me. How had this happened, I wondered as they all gossiped over one another?

The morning had started out fine. Harley had arrived at half seven, a bit earlier than expected, but he explained he had a long day ahead of him. Last night I’d discovered that Harley was a Master blacksmith and a weapons master. He’d mentioned it before when we’d shared a bed in the first hotel but went into detail. He’d even showed me some of the swords and daggers he’d created, and they were stunning. I was shocked at how much they sold for, but Harley assured me he used real gemstones and gold or silver in the decoration.

Also, I guessed being handcrafted made a lot more difference than being machine or mass produced. Harley told me he had a sword and dagger that needed finishing, and the buyer was picking them up in a few days.

He drained the infection and claimed my feet were beginning to look better.

Well, I hoped so. Staying in one place was starting to make me antsy because I wouldn’t be able to run. Sure, everything was being charged to Harley’s card, and I’d pay him back, but I didn’t feel safe.

I’d been watching a movie when a tap rapped on the door. Worried, I frowned, as it was too early for Gunner. Wheeling myself over, I realised I couldn’t reach the peephole, and I didn’t want to call out.

“Vivie. The girl won’t open the door on a random unknown knock,” a female voice snapped.

“What would you do? Bang on it and shout?” a woman with a French accent replied.

“Stop arguing. You’re probably scaring her,” a third stated.

“Shut up, Rosie, knock again,” a fourth demanded.

My eyes were huge as the women argued amongst themselves.

“Well, Oakley’s got to be inside. Harley mentioned how fucked her feet are,” the first said and banged harder.

Scared, I flinched back.

“Hey, Oakley, I know you’re in there. I’m Harley’s Aunt Marsha. You can open the door, sweet girl.”

Concerned, I chewed my lip and wished I had a phone to call Harley.

“We’re all Harley’s aunts,” the one called Rosie announced.

“You’re not!” the fourth replied.

“Summer, I’m married to Calamity. That makes me Harley’s aunt,” Rosie stated.

“That does not, Rosie, you were a princess and a Hellion,” Marsha retorted.

“Hey, I was never a Hellion! Shit, I was better behaved than those little fuckers. How could you compare me to Eddie?” Rosie exclaimed, outraged.

“Let me pick the damn lock, for fuck’s sake,” a fifth woman said.

“Irish, you’ll scare the pants off her!” Summer retorted.

“As if you fuckin’ lot haven’t already. Fuck. Poor girl’s probably locked herself in the bathroom,” Irish replied. She didn’t sound Irish to me.

Carefully, I opened the door, and four women beamed at me while the fifth scowled at the others.

“I recognised the names Calamity and Eddie,” I said by way of introduction.

The older woman stepped forward. “Hello, honey, I’m Marsha. Now, how about you move back, and we come in and keep you company?”

Without argument, I obeyed quietly. The women bustled in carrying bags and dumped them on the floor.

“At least Harley sprang for a nice room,” Rosie drawled, looking around. I knew that was Rosie because I recognised her voice. Dang, she was pretty.

“Qui, Harley is not such a tightass,” Vivie said.

“Put the accent away, who are you trying to impress?” Rosie demanded.

Vivie let out a delicate snort. “I am French!”

“And grew up in America,” Summer retorted. That meant the scowling woman was Irish.

“Sorry, Oakley. I tried to stop these interfering peahens, but they got a bee in their bonnet. And while they bicker worse than the hellions, they’ve got good hearts,” Irish stated, folding her arms.

Four glares aimed in her direction, and then the women stared at me.

“You’re stunning,” Vivie offered.

“Thank you.”

“Oakley looks like Frankie a little,” Summer said.

“A little? She’s a lot like Frankie. Look at that gorgeous head of hair. The shape of the lips, her eyes, yeah, Oakley is beautiful,” Marsha interrupted.

“Frankie?” I inquired weakly. These women were a lot to take in.

“She’s a friend, one of the Washington lot,” Rosie answered.

“You have a club in Washington?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“No, Frankie belongs to James Washington’s group. They’re friends of Rage,” Irish explained.

“Well, more like family because James is Gunner’s brother,” Rosie said, and all of them nodded.

“James is still trying to escape Lindsey and Autumn. Those two women drag him to more family meals than he knows what to do with,” Marsha announced with a chuckle.

“Then there’s his closeness with Silvie. James and Apache have been researching this doctor that Silvie is seeing. Neither of them is convinced that he’s the right surgeon for her,” Summer randomly announced.

“Throw in Phoe, and the surgeon who operates on Silvie will be the best,” Vivie agreed.

“I think Oakey is perplexed and wondering what the fuck is happening here,” Irish said, and I nodded. I didn’t recognise any of the names mentioned. And why were these strangers in my hotel room?

“Yeah, I’m a lot confused,” I admitted.

“Okay, to nutshell it. James Washington was a big underworld criminal whose brother is Gunner. They were estranged, as Gunner didn’t like criminals. But James went straight, and they repaired their relationship. Autumn is Gunner’s old lady and is determined to make James family. James might complain, but he can’t refuse Autumn. James isn’t going to get the quiet life he wants,” Irish said.

“Not a chance in hell,” Rosie agreed.

“Lindsey is Lowrider’s old lady. When they were courting, Rage screwed up, and Lindsey ran away. Her ex-husband, an evil man, tried to kill her, and James rescued her. James was still dirty then, so her ex couldn’t touch her. That made James and Lindsey close,” Marsha added.

“Silvie was in a nightclub and overheard threats against James and warned him. James then decided Silvie needed looking after. He’s super tight with Silvie, as she got hurt bad,” Summer explained.

“Okay,” I said, absorbing that information. That all seemed pretty straightforward. A criminal turned good and protected women. I liked the sound of James Washington.

“James has a niece and nephew, twins, Frankie and Jamie. And he has a bodyguard called Adam. James considers them and their spouses family. That’s why we call them the Washingtons,” Rosie summed up.

“Got it.” I nodded.

“Anway, I’m Marsha and I’m Fish’s old lady. He’s Rage’s secretary and part of the inner circle.”

“Old lady? Isn’t that a girlfriend?”

“More than that. If a brother takes an old lady, that’s making a statement that she is his life partner. He treats her like a queen. That doesn’t happen in all clubs, but most treat an old lady better than a wife. Although most of the old ladies are also married to their partners. It’s a Rage thing. The marriage protects the kids in the eyes of the law,” Marsha explained.

“Calamity’s old lady here,” Rosie stated with a smile.

“And I’m Lex’s,” Vivie said.

“Vivie’s also a real-life Duchess. The Duchesse Toulouse, a French title. Which makes Lex a French Duc. We got nobility in Rage.” Marsha giggled.

Vivie made a rude noise.

“I’m Slick’s old lady,” Summer announced.

“I am, too. But we’re not into threesomes. Slick separates time between us, although we live together as a family,” Irish announced with a hint of aggression.

“Okay?” I replied. It wasn’t for me to judge them.

“Slick loves us both, and if we’d forced him to choose, he’d have broken his heart over one of us. So Irish and I sat down and figured something out,” Summer added with a glance at Irish.

“We’re like sisters,” Irish said. “And I will fuckin’ make someone bled if they upset Summer.”

“Look, thanks for explaining, but it’s none of my business. Live and let live. If that’s your choice and you’re happy, great! It has nothing to do with me,” I replied, moving out of the wheelchair and onto the bed.

“Nice. We’re keeping her. If Harley doesn’t claim her, there’s Cody, Jared, and Christian,” Rosie announced.

“Don’t forget Slate,” Vivie suggested.

“Ladies, I’m not looking for a relationship,” I interrupted, holding a hand up.

“Babe, trust me. You might not be searching, but if one of Rage believes you’re their soulmate, all bets are off. You’ll be loved up and shacked up within a week,” Marsha laughed.

“I very much doubt it. I’ve had enough of men and being forced into marriage,” I said firmly, and the women stopped laughing.

Sadness crossed Marsha’s face. “Harley mentioned you’d had it rough. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.”

“If you need a shoulder…” Summer offered.

Summer seemed sweet, and I smiled at her. Irish moved to stand behind Summer. I got the sense the woman was ready to jump in front of her should it be needed. An uneasy feeling hit.

“How did you find me? Why are you here?” I asked finally.

“Yeah, we’ve not made a great first impression,” Rosie admitted reluctantly.

“We came because Harley mentioned you’d be alone all day. That can be tedious. We also brought you some stuff that Harley wouldn’t have thought of. A phone and a tablet, for example. Much better than sitting staring at four walls. There’s a load of magazines and some puzzle books, too,” Summer said softly.

“That’s very kind of you,” I replied.

“We’ve got snacks. Harley said you could order from room service, but I’d bet money he didn’t think of snacks and stuff,” Irish added.

“ Oui , I brought chocolates. Lots of chocolates,” Vivie offered, beaming. “I own my own chocolate shop, and these are all handmade. We argued over what to bring, so I grabbed a couple of each kind.”

“Which means those three bags that Vivie dumped are full of goodies, and she wouldn’t share them.” Rosie scowled.

“Sorry, we can be a bit much. We like to help. Some of us old ladies have stories that would turn you grey. We’ve not had it easy.” Marsha slid a glance at Summer, who wilted. “But we stick together, and we’re rabidly friendly.”

Vivie nodded enthusiastically. “Merde, I don’t like people. But I like Rage and Lex.”

“Only because Lex gives you the good stuff,” Marsha said, and surprisingly, Vivie lit up like a Christmas Tree.

“Oui, Lex c’est une bombe sexuelle!” If I got that right, Vivie just called her husband a sex bomb. “Lex est magnifique!”

“I’m glad.” Irish smirked, and Vivie pouted before smiling.

“These men bring us joy. Even Ellen has smiles from Axel sexing her up,” Vivie agreed.

“Axel is a founder of Rage. He is seventy-one, and Ellen is his wife. She’s sixty-one, and they go at it like rabbits. Their children are constantly embarrassed by them,” Marsha explained.

“Like that time Wild got Lynda so drunk they stayed overnight at the cottage, and Axel and Ellen woke them up. They were having loud wall sex, and Wild nearly jumped out of the window to escape it. Lynda demanded to know why Ellen was getting the goodies and she wasn’t. Wild bitched for weeks about it.” Rosie giggled.

“Wild is Axel and Ellen’s adopted son. He’s married to Lynda, who owns her own clinic. Lynda’s a doctor who deals with burns,” Irish informed me.

“And we’ve gone off on a tangent again. The upshot is most of us present understand what it is to be alone and afraid. We didn’t want you feeling like that in the run-up to Christmas. Harley’s busy, but nobody should be lonely at this time of year. So, we came to bring you these gifts and give you some company,” Summer said.

“That’s very kind of you,” I replied.

“Plus, we’ve got room for another friend,” Rosie muttered, peeking at my feet.

I moved them self-consciously.

“No, don’t, sorry. I’m a vet, and I’m always nosing in things like this. Oakley, can I ask? Did Doc Paul or Harley mention anything about scarring?”

“No.”

“Um. Those are some deep cuts, and the scars could be quite thick. We can ask Lynda to pop in and look,” Rosie murmured, peering closer.

“I thought you just said Lynda deals with burns,” I answered, confused again.

“She does. Lynda uses a technique called RECELL, which basically grows new skin and minimises scarring. Looking at your feet, it might benefit you,” Rosie replied, frowning.

“Are they that bad? I’ve not looked. I’ve been kinda scared to.”

“Summer, call Lynda. See if she can come and warn her to keep this quiet,” Marsha responded. “I just had a text from Phoe; she wants to go to lunch. I’ll catch you all later.”

Marsha departed before I could comment.

“Phoe knows something’s up. She’s going to interrogate Marsha. Rather her than me,” Rosie said with a shudder.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

“Phoe wants her kids settled down and wants grandchildren. If she discovers Harley’s hiding you, then yeah, very bad because Phoe will start meddling,” Rosie replied.

I was grateful that Phoe didn’t know about me. I let the women gossip around me while I began making escape plans.

Drake

“Hear you answered a call from Harley,” I remarked to Doc Paul.

Doc Paul looked up and chuckled. “Is anything secret?”

“Not where my kids are concerned. Is Harley okay?”

“As far as I’m aware, yes,” Doc Paul replied.

“He’s not having difficulties?” I asked. “Harley’s previous head injury…”

“No, Drake. Nothing like that,” Doc Paul said quickly.

I sighed in relief. Harley’s health was excellent, and his past headaches had vanished a couple of years ago.

“What was the hotel visit? Wait, why a hotel? Shit, was Harley shot or something and doesn’t want to worry Phoe?” I blurted.

“Drake, Harley is fine. I wasn’t attending him,” Doc Paul replied and clammed up.

If he wasn’t seeing Harley, then who was he… ah. The light came on, and my eyes narrowed.

Doc Paul squirmed. “Drake, I can’t comment!” he warned.

“Harley has a girl.” “Drake, it’s a complicated situation and doctor-patient privilege.”

Damn, Harley was hiding a woman from his mother. Phoe would not be amused. But if it meant another son was settling down, and those future grandchildren got closer… Then again, why did Harley’s woman need medical care? What had my son got himself into?

“Doc, if Harley was in trouble, you’d tell me?”

“Harley is safe. And he’s well. Drake, I was there for his attack, too. Harley’s special to me. He’s okay,” Doc Paul replied.

Satisfied for now, I let the matter drop and got Doc another beer.

Harley

When I arrived at eight, I was bone tired and wanted this over and done with. I’d gone to text Oakley during the day and realised she didn’t have a cell. On the way here, I’d stopped off and bought her one. Oakley let me in, and I stared when I saw a tablet on the bed and several magazines. On the bedside table was a phone charging.

“Where did that come from?” I asked, surprised.

“Marsha, Vivie, Rosie, Summer, and Irish visited, and then Lynda did,” Oakley said. “They brought me some items to alleviate the boredom.”

Not a surprise the old ladies had discovered Oakley.

“I just bought you a phone. Never mind, keep it, and if you need a backup, you have one. Have you eaten?” I inquired, slightly miffed that the old ladies had beaten me. Wait, why had Lynda been here? I voiced the thought, and Oakley shrugged.

“Rosie seemed concerned about the scarring on my feet and asked Lynda to do an assessment. Lynda said there will be some, but it won’t impede my walking.”

“That’s good news. I didn’t even consider that. How the hell did they find you?”

“They rang hotels until they found a room booked in your name.”

“Wow, that’s a breach of confidentiality!” I exclaimed.

“I guessed that too. Maybe you ought to speak to reception or the manager. That seems to impact my safety,” Oakley stated.

I couldn’t disagree. On the way out, I’d be having a serious word.

“Oakley, you didn’t answer my question. Have you eaten?”

“No, but I’d just ordered for both of us before you arrived. The food should be here soon. It was so late that I guessed you hadn’t had dinner.”

“I haven’t and only grabbed a sandwich for lunch. Anything you’ve requested will be perfect,” I replied.

“I wasn’t sure. But thought I’d take a risk,” Oakley said a little shyly.

“Let me examine your feet while we’re waiting.”

No offence to Oakley, but I just wanted to check her over, eat dinner, and hit my bed at the clubhouse. I’d another long day tomorrow. However, a lot of my stress seemed to disappear in her presence. Oakley had a soothing aura that relaxed me.

“Tell me about your day,” I suggested as I checked her feet over.

Oakley babbled on, and just as I finished, the meal arrived. We made small talk as we ate, and then I took my leave.

The clubhouse was mostly empty when I arrived. The bulk of Rage would be at home with their families. I couldn’t blame them. Despite Carmine and now Tye looking like they were settling down, it wasn’t on the cards for me. I was too busy and had too much living to do.

Whatever the old ladies were planning—and I knew they were up to something—they could just forget it. I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. Plus, Oakley was dealing with her own shit. And I still didn’t know what that was. All I had was a runaway bride story. I made a mental note to call Hawthorne in the morning and see what he had.