Page 12 of Scythe’s Salvation (Imperial Knights MC: Roanoke, VA #2)
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Scythe
I’m still seething as I enter the clubhouse.
It seems like this Tim Jones fucker has an agenda when it comes to our town and my woman.
Yeah, I’ll admit that to myself for the time being, especially since I haven’t kissed her succulent lips or had my hands on her delectable body, but make no mistake, Tamara and Chance are mine!
That means I’ll throw everything I have at that asshole who’s trying to tear her down.
Again.
I’m no idiot and while the majority of us were eventually homeschooled at the clubhouse to keep from getting into fights on a daily basis, some of the town’s scandals still reached our ears.
While I’m a few years older than Tamara, I remember hearing about a girl whose boyfriend ditched her when she found out she was pregnant.
Since the club tended to pick up strays, so to speak, I distinctly recall hoping that someone took her in.
But I never expected that the ‘wayward female’ I heard about so many years ago was Tamara.
She’s definitely busted her ass to make something of her life and I’ll be damned if that bastard will come strolling in like he’s king of the world and reduce her to who she was before.
I could tell during my time at Amara’s family home that the two of them share a deep bond.
Plus, the fact that I went through what amounts to the Spanish Inquisition from both Hester and Amara hammers that fact home.
“Hawg!” I bellow as I cross to the bar and hold out my hand for a beer. Once it’s in my grasp, I take a few deep swallows, and continue yelling for Hawg as I meander toward his room that’s set up to rival the command center at NASA.
He’s got multiple monitors mounted to the wall, and they regularly flick through the cameras that now cover the entirety of our expanded property.
Plus, two of them are typically running searches depending on the club’s needs.
I know he was doing a deep dive on Timothy Andrew Jones, and after seeing Tamara’s reaction to the court summons she received, I’m eager to find out what he’s sussed out.
Well, him, Beast, and Selah, who’s a damn whiz when it comes to the computer.
She’s already done some shit that has our investments earning even more than they did before. Butcher says she’s a financial genius, but she’s not afraid to delve into the dark side when necessary.
I’m of the opinion that it might be necessary at this point.
As I breach the doorway of his office, I see he’s wearing headphones which makes sense because the music’s already playing in the common room.
We may no longer party like we did before all the ol’ ladies started showing up, but we’re still bikers and love our rock and roll.
Before I can call his name again, he sees me from his peripheral vision and jerks his headphones off to rest on his shoulders. “Hey, Scythe, wait’ll you hear what I’ve uncovered,” he says, motioning for me to come in and sit in one of the other chairs by his massive desk.
Several of the brothers built this behemoth, using every square inch to ensure he had the room he needed to work.
I see Selah’s laptop in the corner on the charger and the only reason I know it’s hers is because it’s not solid black like the ones Hawg and Beast use, it’s more of a muted blue and there’s a sparkly ‘S’ on the top.
Shaking my head, I sit where Hawg indicates and wait to hear what he’s found, my leg bouncing in anticipation.
“Okay, so here’s the thing about Jones,” he starts, pulling some papers from the printer that’s practically in his lap.
He hands the stack to me but keeps on talking.
“He married a woman named Portia Beddingfield about four years ago and then they proceeded to have two children, a boy and a girl. She’s a stay-at-home mom, but before she had the kids, she was a nurse practitioner.
He’s been cheating on her since the boy was about six months old with several different women.
No other known children that I’ve found, but it remains a possibility, so I’ve got searches going on for those women as well. ”
“So, outside of the fact he’s a cheating motherfucker, anything we can actually use?” I question, scanning over the documents. “Because Tamara was just served today with a court summons asking her to produce proof of Chance’s DNA.”
“Not yet, there’s nothing really suspicious in his financial records.
He and Portia owned their house with no mortgage, and with the sale they were able to purchase something in Roanoke.
Healthy savings account, a Roth IRA, a couple of money market accounts that look like they might be for the kids’ education,” he replies.
“What about his job performance?” I query.
“Selah’s been working on that, seems he’s moved up the ranks rather quickly, which usually means there’s dirty money somewhere,” he admits. “She found a thread of a lead and is chasing that down. Well, she will once her laptop finishes charging, that is.”
I snicker because the three of them seem to have their electronic devices attached to them as an extra appendage, and with all three of them digging into Jones, I’m sure they’re running their batteries down rather quickly.
“There’s definitely gotta be something to sniff out. I mean, how the hell does someone who’s been a law enforcement officer for what, four or five years? How the fuck are they able to waltz into our town and put in the paperwork to run for sheriff? He’s still wet behind the ears,” I grumble.
“We’ll find it, Scythe. You just protect your woman,” Hawg intones.
“Uh, brother, just saying, I haven’t said anything about making her my ol’ lady,” I retort. Well, I haven’t said anything out loud; in my head, she’s already been claimed. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“Yeah, mmhm, I call bullshit. You’re going balls to the wall for her, and we’ve all seen that happen before, brother,” he jeers. “Y’all might not have hooked up in the biblical sense but that doesn’t make her any less yours, just saying.”
Fucker. Why does he have to be so intuitive? “Maybe you’re right,” I slowly admit. “She’s got a little boy, though, Hawg, and I’m sure she’s not going to just rush into anything with any man, especially me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Hawg questions, sounding offended on my behalf. “You’re a good man, Scythe. Always willing to jump in and help others no matter what it personally costs you, and the ol’ ladies love you to death. It’s why you get special desserts made, for fuck’s sake!”
I snicker because he’s correct on that score. Whenever the ol’ ladies decide to bake, they might make everyone else’s favorites, but only after they’ve made mine. “Still, Hawg, my beginnings kind of suck.”
“And? She came out of the system as well, brother. I’m sure she’s got a few stories of her own. Besides, from what Roxy has said, she’s genuine, not fake like those plastic wannabes who chase patches.”
I think of the facets of Tamara I’ve seen so far and have to admit, I like every single one of them.
From her caring nature when she was massaging me, to how she was with her son.
None of it was put on, or for show, it was just who she is.
Then, seeing her with Amara and her family, how she acted and was teased, it makes me realize that maybe, just maybe, she’d be willing to take a chance on me.
“Whatever. Let me know if you find anything else out, okay? We’ve got Albertson coming here around nine in the morning to meet with her, so she has legal representation,” I say, standing up to leave.
“It’s about time he earns his retainer,” Hawg grumbles. “We haven’t had to use him in quite some time.”
I don’t respond, I just wave and then smirk when I see him replace his headphones, already back in the zone he was in before I came through the door.
Me: Will you have time for me to take you to lunch after you meet with Mr. Albertson in the morning?
Magic Fingers: I should. I mean, my first and only appointment tomorrow isn’t until two and Amara is picking Chance up from school. That stupid ass is messing with my money and I don’t like it one bit, Scythe.
Me: I’ve got you, babe. I’ve got more than enough money for both of us since I’ve always lived at the clubhouse.
Magic Fingers: I don’t need your money, Scythe! I just hate that he’s turned up and trying to destroy my life.
Me: Won’t happen, Tamara. I won’t let him hurt you or Chance again. Ever.
Magic Fingers: Awfully bold statement considering we barely know each other.
Me: Which is why I want to take you to lunch. In case you missed it, I’m interested in you Tamara. I figured you’d be cautious because you’re a single mom which is why I haven’t ridden in on my Harley, snatched you up and carried you and your boy back to the clubhouse so I can keep you safe.
Magic Fingers: So you’re telling me you’re a closet caveman. Got it.
Me: If only you knew…
Magic Fingers: Okay, my next appointment is here so I’ll see you in the morning and yes, I’ll go to lunch with you.
Me: Our first date! I can’t wait.
Magic Fingers:
Me: Until tomorrow, babe.
I grin as I close our text stream, happy that she agreed to go to lunch with me. I’m one step closer to achieving my ultimate goal—making her my ol’ lady. Game on, Tamara, game fucking on!