“Can’t blame you there, doll. You’re a good mom. Too many kids don’t have them.” He goes silent and blows on his coffee. “Here’s the thing. The club wants to catch up with Owen and question him. If she can set up a meeting, or get him to come here, we’ll know where he is. We’ll come get him, take him back to the club and get our questions answered.”
“I don’t like that.” My eyebrows knit. “I suspect you won’t take no for an answer. And if Owen’s, as you suggested, in cahoots with Devon, he’s not going to come willingly.” One glance at Grumbler’s face shows that I’m right. “I don’t want Alicia faced with any unpleasantness.”
Grumbler’s looking at me carefully, then he shakes his head. “Of course, you’re fuckin’ right. I don’t want you to see that either.” His face has fallen, and his jaw clenches. His eyes become shuttered and I assume he’s trying to think of something else.
My mind, too, is racing. “You got any good-looking young men in your club?”
His eyes snap open as if I’ve startled him. “Good looking? How the fuck would I know?” He chuckles, then stops. “You want me to set you up with a boy toy?” His jaw clenches momentarily, then relaxes. “Or find someone who might take Alicia’s fancy to get her mind off Owen? Hate to say this, doll, but bikers aren’t likely to want a relationship. A quick fuck, yeah. More? No. She’d get no romance from any of us.”
“Not for me or Alicia. For Devon.” I roll my eyes, while noting his obvious view of women. Just objects to be fucked. It takes me back to my schooldays and the loss of my virginity.
“Devon?” His eyes widen again. “Didn’t get the vibe he was gay.”
I bat at his arm. “Remember Devon wanted Owen to sit on your bike, and his reaction when you wouldn’t let him? It was priceless seeing your reaction to him wanting to borrow your cut.” I grin, as I recall it. “He was clearly disappointed. I’ve been looking at MC novels.” I might have bought one, but I don’t admit that. Neither have I started reading it yet. “Most have just a shirtless man on the front, or a couple, or a man wearing a cut on a motorcycle. I just wondered whether you have anyone suitable in your club, and whether Devon might be tempted out of hiding if he was offered the opportunity to photograph one.”
Grumbler puts his coffee down and holds up his hands. “None of my brothers would go for that. It’s one thing my bike appearing on a cover no one, well, apart from Lost’s old lady, would recognise. But a face and cut? Out of the question.”
“They don’t need to actually do it. Just make the offer.”
He stills. His eyes meet mine and hold them. Then he tosses back his head and guffaws. “Christ, woman. You’ve got a damn head on your shoulders. You read it right, and that’s exactly what he wants.” Then his face grows serious. “It would work if he still thinks I’m just an ignorant biker. But he’s changed his phone number. If that’s because I made him suspicious, then he’s going to steer well clear of the Devils.”
“But you didn’t speak to him. I did. As far as he knows, you are an ignorant biker.” I wink to soften my words. “You weren’t the one chasing payment.”
“Fuck. You’re right.” Then, again, his face falls. “But I spoke to Owen.”
I know, he’d told me. “You think he might be working with Devon, them skimming everyone else. But you don’t know it. Isn’t it worth a try?”
Leaning back his head, he closes his eyes briefly. Just when I think he’s about to dismiss my idea, he takes his phone out of his pocket. I suspect he’s going to text or make a call, and start to turn away to give him privacy, but he calls my attention back. Instead, he’s pulled up some photos and is scanning through them. “Got some pics here. Most are ones I’ve taken when the assholes have been fooling around, but you can get an idea. You’re a better judge than me. Any of them look likely? That’s Pennywise and Salem right there.” I cock an eyebrow at the strange names. He chuckles as he explains, “Our old prez was going through a Stephen King phase.”
“They’re not bad. But if Owen’s an example of what he’s after, maybe someone younger?”
“Hmm. Not sure. Ah, yeah. Look. There’s Keeper and Deuce.”
They’ve got characterful faces, but not my taste. The next picture makes me shake my head. Poor guy doesn’t have a complete set of teeth and those he has are crooked. He’s certainly not photogenic. Niran’s black, which doesn’t exclude him, but again, older.
“What about him?” I point to one who’s got shaggy shoulder-length blond hair, a short beard, and the main selling point, piercing blue eyes which are staring straight at the camera. I disregard whoever it is making devil horns above his head.
“Dusty? He’s thirty.”
“He looks younger.”
Grumbler stares at the photo as though he’d never tried to see his brothers as a woman would before. “You think young girls would go for him?”
“Young or old. Remember, many readers are older. He,” I tap the phone, “has a kind of universal appeal.”
Grumbler’s expression shows he can’t quite see it, but his words suggest he’s accepted my endorsement. “So we’ve got our victim. Now, how are we going to contact Devon?”
I’m kind of proud he’s asking my advice. “We ask Alicia to suggest it to Owen. She speaks to him.”
“Instead of getting the mouse to enter the lion’s den, we send the lion to meet the mouse. I like it.” Grumbler’s nodding with approval. “I like the way you think, woman.”
And I like a man who doesn’t have to come up with all the ideas. I’ve enjoyed talking this out with Grumbler and impressed that he’s
