CHAPTER FIVE: RONNIE
THE GUY DARREN SENT me off with is weird as fuck. Not like “Hi, I’m a badass biker in a polo shirt, please call me Darren,” weird. Although the memory of literally calling him Silver Daddy to his face burns me in my soul. No. Chuck is... twitchy. He’s also clearly in awe of Silver Daddy, DARREN GOD DAMN IT, and he is taking his task of watching me very seriously. Extremely seriously. The little goon is watching me eat bacon with a riveted expression on his face. It kind of creeps me out to be honest. He’s lucky the food is so good and I’m too hungry to make that big of a deal about it.
“Chuck, is it?” I ask, hoping to distract him.
He nods his head vigorously and smiles, clearly pleased that I remembered his name.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ronnie,” I say before taking a sip of the coffee in front of me. The hot coffee hits me like a drug and I can’t help the little shudder of pleasure it gives me. “What do you do?”
Chuck immediately drops his gaze and stares at his hands, fidgeting awkwardly. I take the moment to look him over more closely.
He’s scruffier than Darren. Younger too. Probably in his late-twenties. I can see the faded blue ink of a tattoo on the side of his neck, it looks like a tentacle crawling up toward his ear. His coveralls are faded but clean and he has the logo of the mechanic shop on one side and then an emblem of a trident and a motorcycle on the other. Sea Lion MC.
Apparently everything I thought I knew about motorcycle clubs is wrong. Granted, what I do know is mostly based on books and binge watching violent TV dramas, but still. Not a single person has looked at me like they are going to shoot me. It’s weird.
“Do you work at the mechanic shop? Fix bikes, maybe?” I try again as I attack my eggs with gusto. I really was hungry, and this little restaurant reminds me of a true greasy spoon diner. It’s the best.
Chuck just nods, a curious pink flooding his cheeks at my scrutiny. Aww, he’s shy!
“Uh, Chuck? I won’t bother you if you don’t want to talk, I’m just curious. If you don’t want to tell me about you, how about you tell me about Darren?”
He blushes further but he finally looks up. He has the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. They are deep and dark, like pools of melted chocolate, and I’m momentarily taken aback.
“I’m the apprentice mechanic for Trevor’s shop. When I finish my apprentice term, I’ll be eligible for a promotion to be the Club mechanic.”
“Wow! That’s great! Congrats! How long have you been riding?” I notice he does not talk about Darren and I wonder if the idea of being treated like a shy kid finally got to him.
“Five years. I was in an accident and never thought I would ride again, but Trevor and Darren found me and helped me out. They brought me here. Darren’s a good man. He is.” The quiet earnestness of this kid pulls at my heartstrings. He clearly hero-worships Darren, and the idea that there are people out there that take in lost, lonely kids and mentor them is admirable. I thought that tradition had been lost to history.
“Darren’s a good guy, huh? Well that’s a relief. It would have been awkward as hell if you told me that I had spent the morning riding behind a serial killer or an asshole or something.”
Chuck pales and then looks both ways, checking the surroundings before leaning forward. I stop the mug of coffee halfway to my mouth and lean forward too.
“The Club will protect you no matter what happens. No one will harm you,” he whispers fiercely. I watch with amusement as he reaches over and touches my arm. Unlike when Darren and the other guy—Bryan or Brant or something, touched me, there is no shock. No insta-warmth. Just a comforting pat between new friends.
“I appreciate that, Chuck. I don’t think it will be necessary though. I’m just here until Betsy gets fixed and then I’ll be on my way.”
“No!” His outburst draws the attention of our server who comes over with the coffee pot. She looks like she has questions.
“Need something, my dears?” she asks, taking note that Chuck’s hand is still on my forearm. He removes it hastily.
“No. Thank you, Glenda. Have you met Ronnie? She’s a guest of the Club.” His shyness is gone and he’s sitting up straighter. No longer the lost little boy, he looks rather fierce.
“Right. Welcome to Misty Cove, dear! If you need anything during your stay with those boys, you come over and find me. I’ve been around long enough to run a ring or two around those pups. Don’t let them push you around or anything of that sort. Tell them Glenda told them to behave themselves.”
I like her immediately. She reminds me of my Grandma Meryn. Grandma was a kind, gentle soul who could morph into your worst fucking nightmare if anyone threatened her people. Glenda gives off those same vibes, but in a younger package.
She leans over the table to refill my coffee cup and I go back to studying my table mate and his sudden change. A flood of piping hot coffee in my lap makes me spring up and bump into Glenda who is staring in shock at my tits or, more specifically, my necklace.
Christ, what is with this town?
“A Matestone,” she whispers, her hand reaching out towards me as if to touch it. I bat her hand away and stand up.
“Time to go, Ronnie,” Chuck brushes the older woman aside and helps me out of the booth. The coffee is
