Page 6

Tank

L ooks like having a keen sense of smell runs in the family. Chewy sniffs the air before leaning forward and peering into the box with her grandfather.

“Why do you have that?” Pops asks, his voice gruff.

“I have no clue. Someone keeps sending livers to me, which I agree is totally weird but also kinda handy because my cat loves eating them. But it’s weird right? Unless I accidentally signed up to a delivery service and forgot. I did that once before. I kept having train trading cards delivered.” Mira shrugs.

“There ain’t no service that delivers human liver that I know of, girl.”

“What!?” The whole room roars, all of us jostling for a closer look.

“Shit, he’s right, they are human,” Switch says in his booming voice, Mira blinking a couple of times at the sheer noise.

“Human liver has four lobes. One, two, three, four. Pig livers look the closest to ours, but they have five lobes.” Chewy says calmly, as if it’s common knowledge.

Mira is looking pale as fuck, her hand resting on her chest. If she had pearls she would be clutching them.

“Human? Like, from people?” she whispers.

“Mira, sweetheart, take a seat.” I tell her gently, guiding her back into her seat. “This is Chewy’s grandfather, Pops. He’s Mama Debs’ Ol Man.” She gives him a tight smile and waves. “Pops, this is Mira. She’s a writer.”

He ignores the introduction. “Girl, who have you pissed off to have livers sent to you?”

“I, I have no idea. Oh, holy carp I’ve been feeding people to Mrs. McKenzie?” A look of pure horror washes over her pretty face.

“Who’s Mrs. McKenzie?” Chewy asks, head tipped to the side.

“She’s my cat. The one that’s been looking fabulous thanks to a diet of delivered liver.” She squeezes her eyes tightly. “Ew.”

“Mira, how often do you get these packages?” Pops asks, eyes still on the box.

“Well, I’ve had maybe three or four since that day we went to the slammer,” she says, looking up at me from her seat at the table.

“That was, what? Two months back?” I think out loud.

“If you’ve had four parcels, then that’s every two weeks,” Chewy adds. “How many do you get each time? And is it always delivered on the same day?”

Mira looks shocked at Chewy’s quick fire questions, then nods, her curly blonde ponytail bobbing. “Well, the first time it happened was a Sunday. Then the next time I remember seeing Mrs. and Mr. Barklay in their nice church clothes when I was on the porch with the parcel, so another Sunday. But today is a Tuesday, so maybe it’s just whenever they have livers?” Chewy looks at Pops and they do that weird no talking communication. “Oh, and I always get two in the box.”

“Four bodies,” Chewy mumbles.

“To Trap a Kiss,” Marx’s rough voice mutters.

We all spin to look at him, what the fuck is he talking about?

“Holy shirt balls, you’re right!” Mira shouts. What in the fuck?

“Um, care to share?” Dex’s voice pipes up. The whole MC is here, wanting to know why the hell the woman we’ve let into our clubhouse is having body parts sent to her. Not just her, but now us.

“In my book, ‘To Trap a Kiss’, the main character was investigating a killer who would remove the victims’ livers.”

“I thought you wrote sex books? Nothing about liver is sexy,” Rider asks.

“Oh, well, the main character joins forces with a prickly single mom medical examiner that he had a fling with four years prior but doesn’t recognize. He’s super attracted to her and she hates him because he left without saying a word after they shared a wild weekend together. What he doesn’t know is that the weekend they shared resulted in a daughter. So not only does he have to find a killer, but he also has to uncover the fact that the woman of his dreams hid a child from him, all while groveling enough to get her to give him another chance and heal his childhood trauma at the same time.” Mira says, all in one breath.

“Oookkk. And how exactly did you know about this book -” Pops looks from Marx to Mira for the title.

“To Trap a Kiss-”

“- To Trap a Kiss? Well, Skid Marx?” Pops folds his arms over his chest, staring at Pres, his lips tipping up in the corners.

“I did my research, old man. Wire sent me Mira’s background check and I dove a little deeper.” Wire’s eyes flick to Marx briefly before covering his surprise.

Pops narrows his eyes, staring Marx down and getting nowhere because Marx is one tough motherfucker.

“Whatever shit Marx does or doesn’t know isn’t important. What we need to know is how the hell the sender knew where Mira was to deliver it to her.” Rhodie says, looking around at everyone, Chomper now nestled against his chest.

The room is silent, everyone taking in the new information. Remy comes to stand next to Wire, handing him his laptop. I was so busy watching Mira that I didn’t even notice that she had left the room. We’re all assembled, including the prospects and our wider family - the rest of the Tombs back from Louisiana, Lovely and Blanche and the big kids; the Littles, bored with the drama, have gone to join Debs in the kitchen.

“Jimmy, were you on the gate when this was delivered?” Marx gruffly asks.

“Yes, sir. An older man in a white Honda Civic. Works for a florist in town and was asked to deliver this rather than flowers.”

“Did he say which florist?”

“Yeah, Flora’s Buds,” Jimmy answers with a snicker.

“We did their security install.” Gus says. It’s good to know Flora’s Buds has a Tombs Security system. “We may be able to get a look at the person who ordered the delivery. Jules?”

“I’ll talk to Flora,” Jules says

“Whoa, who are they?” Mira whispers.

“Jules Tombs, pleasure to meet you,” Jules says, winking, fucking winking at Mira. And looking less bitchy than usual. “This is my older, less handsome brother, Gus.”

“I said the inside part out loud didn’t I?” Mira’s wide eyes look around for confirmation, her shoulders slumping as we all nod at her. “Your good looks gave me a brain fart.” Jule’s brows fly to his hairline. “Have you ever thought about modeling for romance covers? You both totally have that alpha hole look going on.”

Both brothers look bewildered, Ana cackles, and across from me Flack frowns and mouths ‘alpha hole’. I have no idea what an alpha hole is, but judging by the women swooning, well, all the women except Chewy, an alpha hole must be a good thing.

“You’d be a cinnamon roll hero,” Mira whispers to me, patting my stomach.

Sure, I may not have a lean, hard looking body like Jules or Gus, but I hold my own. Also, what the fuck is a ‘cinnamon roll hero’?

“Thanks for your help Tombs’,” Marx’s gruff voice breaks into my train of thought, putting me and the rest of us back on track. “We need to know who the hell is sending this shit.” Before Mira can speak, Marx holds up a hand, “Not just for you, but by delivering this shit to our home, he’s involved us now. Chewy and Pops, can you two dispose of these remains before fucking Rose Grove PD gets a whiff? With fuck all movement on who tried to frame Tank, we gotta keep our noses clean. I want you all to go about your normal routines until Wire can pull some information we can use.”

“Aye aye Captain!” Chewy salutes. “Elio! We have a lesson!” She calls out to her nephew, stopping to drop a kiss on Chomper’s head, then Rhodie’s lips before carrying on her forward momentum into the kitchen to find Elio.

Tav has his mouth hanging open, as does Blanche. Pops stops, placing a finger under both their chins and effectively closing them. “Don’t stress yourselves, we’ll tell him they’re pigs livers.”

Mira turns to look at me. “Dispose of them how?” she whispers.

“You don’t wanna know.”

Mira

After the big revelation that I’ve been feeding my poor cat people-liver, things move fast. Remy and her very handsome Ol Man hit the internet in search of people selling body parts. I think? I actually have no idea. I tried to keep up with their conversation but they seemed to talk in half sentences, the other person knowing inherently what they meant. From what I could gather there are dark places on the web that specialize in that type of thing. Which is gross and horrific. Did I note it down for future reference regardless? Yes. yes I did. While they headed off to their “Control Center” to look into that a little more, most everyone else left to go about their lives as if this kinda thing was totally normal. Maybe it is in biker land?

“You holding up OK?” Mama Debs’ soft voice asks from my side, where she’s standing with a steaming cup of something and a plate of cookies which I eagerly take from her.

I’m a curvy girl. I like the way I’m built, which means I never say no to a home baked cookie.

“I have no idea. Twenty minutes ago I was a fabulous bubbly blonde writer in a clubhouse working on my new romance novel. Now I’m a woman eating cookies wondering who the heck I fed to my cat,” I sigh. I can feel the tension in my shoulders and the place in my head that normally works a mile a minute, thinking of scenarios and sentences and characters is shockingly quiet.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that DRMC has your back? And that they won’t stop until they find out what the hell is going on?” Debs asks, taking a seat next to mine and laying a warm hand on my arm. Would it be weird if I crawled over to sit in her lap? “I don’t think it would be weird, but it would definitely be a tight squeeze.”

“Drummit!”

She laughs, a great big belly laugh, her whole body shaking. She’s wonderful and warm and it makes me miss my Nana even more than usual. She’s the one that encouraged me when everyone else said that writing wasn’t a real career and maybe I should look at hospitality or retail. I tried those options, believe me, I tried. But it’s hard to make tips when you don’t have much of an inner monologue and are inherently nosey. Did I want to excel at being a server? Not as much as I wanted to know how you got that missing tooth.

After being let go from pretty much every restaurant in Rose Grove, my nana sat me down and told me I needed to say “to heck with it” and find my own path. With her encouragement, and my love of people and stories, I found my career. Taking the figments of my imagination and giving them backstories, loves and losses, trials and tribulations. I give them excitement and romance and all the things that the many people I’ve come across in my lifetime have, making my characters’ lives whole. Human. With a healthy dose of mystery and thrill, of course.

Looking around the room, I realize that since I’ve been here I’ve been more interested in getting the ideas out of my head than getting closer to the people that give this place its family vibe.

“Mama Debs? How the heck did you get from New Zealand, which, I’m not even entirely too sure where that is exactly, to this clubhouse half a world away from your home?” I turn my body fully, my knees touching hers.

“Well, you know my Ana works and is best friends with the Bratva, yeah?”

I nod, dunking a cookie into my tea, and then popping it in my mouth, the warm sweetness hitting my tastebuds. Heaven.

“Well, there was a little raruraru , trouble, and her boss and bestie, Roman, had to head to Russia. This caused an issue with her visa, and she had 30 days to leave the country. So Chewy’s brother, August, swept in and suggested a marriage of convenience. I came to offer my support and of course meet my new son-in-law. It took me all of five seconds to realize that they were both hopelessly in love with each other. But, well, they are both stubborn and I’m sure Gus has anxiety or some issue, but that aside, it all worked out and now they have that very scrumptious fat baby of theirs.” She smiles huge at me and I love how joy seeps out of her pores.

“I love that. But wait, how did you end up at the MC?”

“Well, with Chewy part of the MC and Gus friends with Marx, we somehow all just landed here. Marx asked if I wanted a job feeding them, and if I’m honest, I would have done it for free. They’re good boys.” She shrugs.

“And you and Pops?”

Mama Debs smiles softly, eyes twinkling. “We both lost loves. But the universe decided to give us another go round, and, well, now I’m Sid’s Ol Lady and I have someone to share all the good and bad with. After years of doing it alone, it’s nice to have someone have my back again.” She tilts her head at me, much the way Chewy does. “What about you, dear? Who has your back?”

“No one. My nana died two years ago and it’s just been me since then. I mean, I have friends, they’re all writers too. We chat all the time online and some of them I video call. We all met up in Vegas over Christmas. But, I mean, they’re not here with me. If I got sick they wouldn’t call by with soup or cough syrup. But that’s alright, I have Mrs. Mac and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t eat my face off if I died in my sleep. Although I guess she’s had a taste of human now, so maybe I shouldn’t discount her eating me. But other than that, I’m fine. It’s not as sad as it sounds,” I end with a laugh. It was meant to be light but to my own ears it sounds unhinged honk.

Mama Debs’ lips twitch and she pats my hand. “Well, you have a dozen people who have your back now, kotiro, ” My brows pinch, not knowing what that word means. “It means ‘girl’,” Mama Debs smiles.

“Oohhh, that’s cool. It’s like ‘Yuss Gurl’,” I snap my fingers, “But more exotic.”

Mama Debs throws her head back and laughs, “If you say so,”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, kotiro, ” she winks.

“Why is the Tombs family so good looking? Like, it’s not right.”

She bursts into laughter again, and I join her. We’re still laughing when Blanche, Lovely and Ana come to join us.

“What’s so funny?” Blanche asks. She’s the most abrupt of the women, except Chewy, but I’m guessing with the number of kids she has she probably doesn’t have time to mess around with words.

“Mira asked why the Tombs family are so good looking,” Mama Debs answers, still chuckling.

“God, I know right!?” Ana exclaims. “When you get them all together it’s like looking directly into the sun, that’s how hot they are.”

Blanche points at her and nods emphatically, Lovely joining in with the nodding.

“They obviously take after my man,” Mama Debs says, grinning.

“I think you’re right. But, that doesn’t explain why everyone else around here is so good looking,” Lovely says. She has such a sweet, gentle nature about her.

“That’s a good point. There isn’t a fugly in the whole bunch. Even your scary ass boss is hot,” Blanche says, nodding toward Ana.

“Roman is a sweetheart. He just comes across as a hardass. You should see him at home, facemask on watching 90 Day Fiance,” she laughs.

“Is that before or after he’s offed some poor bastard?” Blanche teases.

“Definitely after,” Ana says then presses her hands to her breasts. “Right, I gotta go. These girls are going to start leaking like a faucet soon, which means I gotta go feed.”

She stands and heads down the hall. It’s the first time I’ve noticed that she didn’t have her baby with her. Neither does Lovely.

“Ah, where are the babies?”

“We left them in one of the spare rooms with matches and alcohol unsupervised to see how long they could survive,” Lovely answers with a straight face.

A laugh booms out from behind me, causing me to jump and a little pee come out.

“Oh, she’s got jokes now, huh?” Marx teases.

A slight blush comes over Lovely’s cheeks and she beams at the gruff man. “Thanks. I’ve been working on my repertoire.”

My eyes dart between the two. I wonder if anyone else can see what I’m seeing? Catching Mama Debs’ lips twitching, I see I’m not the only one.

Marx clears his throat, turning to me, “We have a nursery down the hall, had to put one in because we have rug rats coming out of the woodwork.” He gives a big sigh, as if it’s a terrible hardship, but I can see by the look on his face that he enjoys being an uncle. “Mira, can I have a word?”

“Oohhhhhh what did you dooooo?” Blanche teases, her and Mama Debs making gasping noises while Lovely grins.

“I swear it wasn’t me! Please don’t send me to the chokey!” I exclaim. Instead of laughter all I hear is…. Crickets.

I turn to look at my new lady friends and they all look puzzled.

“You know, the chokey? The place where Trunchbull sends the naughty kids? Matilda? Both a book and a film? Oh come on people!” I throw my hands up in the air when I realize they have no clue what I’m talking about.

“Lady, we grew up in a cult and she’s from New Zealand. Who even knows what they get there? Just know that pop references are beyond us.” Blanche shrugs.

“That’s it, I’m making a list. You lot and me have a date later, I’ll teach you all you need to know. I got you, kotiro .” I look to Mama Debs who grins and nods. Yes, I nailed it. “OK, Marx, march me toward the gallows.”

He rolls his eyes and leads the way.

Marx

I can hear her quick footsteps behind me as I stomp my way into my office. I could slow down to let her catch up, but what can I say? I’m an asshole sometimes and I have a lot of shit on my mind.

I indicate she take a seat in the chair across from me, and I lower myself into my own ergonomic chair. It was a total pain in the ass to assemble, but it’s worth every fucking penny.

I watch as she looks around as if she hasn’t ever been in here before. Weird given that she was in that exact same spot last night.

“There’s like, so much to look at in here. Like who are those guys? Why are the walls nicotine yellow? Do you smoke?” She stares at me, waiting for the answers.

“The guys who started the MC, the ex pres smoked, and no.”

“Ha! Good to know. Anyway, you wanted to talk to me? About important, secret stuff I’m guessing seeing as I’m in here and not out there,” Mira indicates with her head.

I let out a sigh. “I think you need to go through the plot of ‘To Trap a Kiss’ and see if you remember anything else. Has the sender of the livers reached out in any other ways? Phone calls and then hanging up like they did in the book?” She shakes her head. “Maybe think through anything weird that may have happened to you recently and see if any of that matches any of your books. Whoever is doing this must be a fan.” I say, drumming my fingers on the top of my desk.

It was fucking close out there, blurting out To Trap a Kiss once I put together the similarities between Mira’s book and the shit happening in her life. I’m not ashamed that I read and love Mira’s books. I just don’t need the headache of my men finding out and giving me shit about it. They’re like kids. The lot of ‘em.

“That’s a solid plan, Mr. President. I never thought of that. AND if I put all the threads together then you can stop pretending that you don’t read my stuff,” she gives me an exaggerated wink and I roll my eyes.

“Exactly. I don’t need fuckers on my case. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but they can be pains in the ass.”

“Nope, they’ve all been nice to me,” she replies with an empathic nod.

“Give it time,” I mutter.

“OK. I’m going to head home and love on my poor cat who’s been eating people.” She stands and heads toward the door before turning around. “Oh, and I’ll try to not have any more body parts sent to you.” She grimaces at the last part. Having that shit sent to you, as a single woman, must be scary as hell.

“You’re not on your own, Mira. We’re all in this together. Got me?” Her shoulders slump and I can see where she was putting on a brave face. The woman may be loud and not shy at all, but that doesn’t mean that this shit isn’t messing with her head.

“Oh my gosh thank you so much. That makes me feel a little better.”

“Don’t mention it.” I give her a nod and she turns toward the door.

She grasps the handle and then spins around once again. “How long have you had a crush on Lovely?”

My quick intake of breath has me choking on thin air and I burst out into a coughing fit. Holy shit I’m going to die choking to death on air. A hand beats the hell out of my back and I swallow madly, hoping that saliva may be able to stop the choking. Deciding that’s a shit idea I grab my bottle of whiskey, pour two fingers and shoot it back.

“Holy shit, what the fuck are you on about woman?” I manage to wheeze out.

“You and Lovely out there. How long has that been going on?” she asks, eyes wide, twinkling at the look on my face.

“We’re friends. She’s Blanche’s sister, so that makes her family.” She stares at me as if I’m talking out my ass. “Look, she’s been through a lot, had men treat her like shit. She needs to find who she is as a person before she can even think about having a relationship. With anyone.” I stare at Mira, hoping my words are enough to convince her there’s nothing going on with me and Lovely.

Because it’s the truth. From what Blanche has shared, Lovely’s life would have been hell. Royal was an absolute mean fucker, and that sweet woman was married off to him in her teens. Now she’s out here making a life for herself, and I want her to succeed at anything and everything she puts her mind to. She needs our support, not me or anyone else trying to get into her pants. Besides, even if there was something in the way we interact, interest or whatever you want to call it, we wouldn’t be right together. Lovely is sweet and kind and she sees the absolute best in people. I’m a hard fucker, downright nasty at times, and the life of a Pres’ Ol Lady isn’t for Lovely. She deserves the picket fence, the dog and the fucking accountant or banker to come home to her and their children every night.

“That’s very noble of you, Pres. Very noble indeed.” Mira smiles and gives a bow. “Right, I gotta get going, I’ve got to check in on my cat and write an anal scene. Oh, and I’ll write a list of weird stuff that’s happened recently and cross reference my books. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I have nothing to say to that. Asking would just engage the woman in a conversation about anal and I’m not ready for that at this time of the evening. Shaking my head, I try to clear it to get on to my actual job, paperwork for all our businesses. Not thinking about Lovely.