Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel Read online

Which wasn’t to say she didn’t have a man back in Casper, his heart whispered.

  “Yeah, but he fucking ain’t here now,” he told his reflection and was surprised to see a self-satisfied grin crease his face before reaching for his toothbrush.

  After finishing up with his evening ablutions, Bishop struggled out of his boots and socks, shucking both his jeans and boxers in one fell swoop before situating himself underneath the bedcovers, shaping his pillow into the mound he enjoyed.

  It had been a long day, a successful day even with all its high and lows.

  And he sighed as he closed his eyes.

  Never once realizing he hadn’t had a need for any kind of pain relief in the evening hours. In the time anticipating her arrival.

  Not even knowing for the first time in months, his pain-o-meter score would have read ‘zero’.

  *.*.*.*.*

  “What are we supposed to do here again?” J.R.’s voice seemed loud as it echoed in the alley of the storage facility as I spun the combination lock on the door to my unit.

  It was my turn to roll my eyes albeit with my back turned as I once again patiently tried to explain our mission. “When my mom died and I turned eighteen, I packed up what I thought was important and stored it here.”

  “And we’re supposed to go through it, right? Decide what we’re taking back and what you want to get rid of?”

  I rolled the door up as I answered, my voice much quieter than it had been. “Yeah, baby.”

  What greeted us both as the door clanged on its rollers was more than daunting. Boxes and boxes and even more boxes were the first thing my eyes caught on before drifting down to the edges of the out-of-fashion furniture that was on view.

  “Geesh, Mom. Hoard much?”

  I shot my glance to my son, but I couldn’t deny what was staring us both in the face. “I don’t remember there being so many…”

  The look J.R. gave me as he reached for the nearest box pretty much echoed my feelings at the humongous task before us. I’d only planned the job to take about three, maybe four hours but from the sheer volume of stuff shoved into the tiny space, it was very clear I’d underestimated.

  I could feel his eyes on me and scrambled to figure out a way to get through it all before we were scheduled to leave on Monday. Or to fit everything I deemed important into my SUV along with our luggage. “Tell you what? Why don’t you bring the boxes down onto the driveway, open them and I’ll pull out what we need to take back?”

  “So I’m the muscle and you’re the brains? Is that it?”

  I smiled at his summation even as I reached for the first bit of cardboard. “Hey, it’s a plan, kid. Have you got a better one?”

  He nodded and chuckled. “Ever seen Storage Wars?”

  “And sell off your inheritance, sight unseen?”

  “Yeah, like I’d be salivating, just waiting for a chance to uncover shi…erm, stuff like this.” His voice was a boyish growl as he brought down the closest box. It was the first time I’d heard that particular sound, one that was so reminiscent of Stan’s.

  I couldn’t help my chuckle at his words because I absolutely couldn’t disagree. The thought that I’d been paying to store all my mom’s old junk I didn’t need or want for years upon years seemed ridiculous at that moment. “Let’s just get through it, okay? The sooner we start, the sooner we can finish and get on to some fun.”

  It was sometime later, with me crouched down going through yet another box of paperwork before I became aware of the sound of motorcycles making their way towards us and our line of cardboard. One that was taking up almost half of the driveway. I shot a look behind me only to see J.R. stop, his eyes eager in anticipation at what would be revealed when the bikes rounded the corner.

  There were two large machines slowly traversing the asphalt, and I watched as they stopped just a few doors down, opposite of where we were. Sunglasses were turned in our direction before one of the big men turned off his motor and went to the huge door of their massive unit.

  The other engine was shut off and I heard the man seated on his ride offer up a deeply spoken, “hey”.

  I stood up slowly after seeing the Hellion patch on their cuts. “Morning.” The squeak of J.R.’s shoes when he walked towards me seemed overly loud in the quiet that now filled the avenue within the storage facility.

  “Who are they, Mom?” my kid asked on a low note.

  I darted a glance at him before turning my gaze back to the men. “Part of the same group Mr. Bastian belongs to.” Both of us stood transfixed as their door was raised and we could see the twinkling of chrome exposed in the sunlight.

  “Holy shit,” J.R. breathed in what couldn’t be described as anything but awe as a plethora of Harleys came into view.

  “Watch your language,” I muttered but without any demand, taken with the sight of the row upon row of motorcycles that were lined up handlebar to handlebar. But the men must have heard our exchange because both of their heads turned back to where we stood.

  The dark-haired one began to make his way to us. “Ain’t ever seen you here before.”

  “Yeah,” I breathed, feeling my heart pick up its pace with every step he took in our direction. “I’ve been gone for awhile. Just came back to clear my space out.”

  “Looks like you’ve made some progress,” the man ground out, but his face held a devastating smile. One that only seemed brighter as he removed his sunglasses, showing his brown eyes held the same expression as his mouth. I saw his head tilt as he studied my face. “You seem familiar, do I know you?”

  “We’re from Casper,” J.R. answered and I whipped my head to shoot him a silent ‘shut up’. He knew better than to talk to strangers!

  The blonde man twisted back to our group before he too began to come towards us. “That city’s been in a lot of convos of late.”

  “Convos?” J.R. whispered from somewhere next to my shoulder.

  I didn’t even glance his way as I explained, using just one side of my mouth as I spoke. “Conversations.”

  “A redhead from Casper, huh?” The blonde man’s voice was deep and rich sounding. “You wouldn’t happen to be Bishop’s Dory, would you?”

  I felt my eyebrows hit my hairline at his pronouncement, not just because he knew my name but the fact that he’d named me as belonging to a Hellion and that Stan had called himself ‘Bishop’ on his voicemail.

  “Christ! Dory?” The dark-haired guy’s bellow could’ve been heard in the next county, causing both me and J.R. to jump at the sound. “It’s me! Dare! God, girl. What’s it been, twelve? No, thirteen years since I’ve seen you.”

  Shit! Dare? I studied the face of the huge biker standing in front of me, only then recognizing both the eyes and the mouth of the kid he’d been. “Hey, Josh. I mean, Dare.” He’d only gotten his Hellion name at the end of my marriage to Stan, just a little runt of a guy who’d still been in junior high. “Nice to see you.”

  Dare used his long legs to step over my line of boxes before gathering me into a tight hug. “Lookin’ good girl even if you’re sporting a haircut meant for a boy.”

  I didn’t know how to respond but my hands caught the sides of his vest as he lifted me off my feet. After placing me back down, Dare turned to my kid. “And who’s this little shit?”

  “J.R., I’d like you to meet Josh ‘Dare’ Gentry who was just about your age when I left Missoula. Dare, this is my son, J.R.” My voice was only a croak as my eyes moved between the big biker and my kid, only hoping that Dare didn’t notice that J.R. was the spitting image of Stan.

  But at the widening of Dare’s eyes, ones that only got bigger as he did an up and down roam of my boy, I knew that ship had long since sailed. The large man swallowed deeply, almost audibly, as he tried to recover, finally snaking out a hand toward J.R. “Nice to meet you, little man.”

  “And you, Mr. Gentry.” J.R. availed himself well, his changing voice only breaking once.

  Turning his body, Dare introduced the blonde
giant standing behind him. “This is Huff Carter. Huff this is Dory Bas…”

  “Leone,” I countered quickly and loudly. “Dory Leone. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Huff.”

  Huff’s incredulous gaze though was stuck on J.R. even as he mumbled something that was a socially acceptable greeting.

  There were a few seconds of quiet but before it got too uncomfortable, my boy picked up the slack by taking a step forward and extending his palm. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter. Are those your motorcycles?”

  We all watched as Huff’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he seemed to recover his power of speech. “Hellion inventory. You into bikes?”

  “Like I told Mr. Bastian last night,” J.R. replied with a wide smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had taken hold of every adult in the group at the mention of Stan. “I’m way into them although my mom’s not a fan.”

  “Would you like a closer look?” Huff’s eyes turned to mine but instead of polite inquiry I saw condemnation in them. “That is, if it’s all right with your ma.”

  My heart did a hard double-beat, guilt racing along every nerve ending knowing both he and Dare had seen what Stan hadn’t. At how J.R. was so much like his dad it was almost scary. “Yeah, sure. But don’t take too long, J.R. We’ve still got a lot to do.”

  My boy had started moving at the first of what I’d uttered, advancing fast as if I’d change my mind and call him back. I looked to Dare and saw his deeply held frown while Huff and J.R. walked to the opened unit.

  “You wanna try and explain exactly what the fuck is going down here, Dore?”

  I tried to play it off, attempted to circumvent Dare’s accusations by playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

  Dare neared until he was front and center before me, blocking my view of anything other than his huge, muscled body. I more than knew it was a move to prevent my face from being seen just as much as it was to avoid me using J.R. as a distraction. “You know exactly what I’m after, girl. The 4-1-1 on why, after all this goddamn time, you roll back into town with my Hellion brother’s kid in tow and try to play that shit off as if it was fuckin’ nothing.”

  I didn’t say a word, couldn’t speak as I watched him drag his fingers through his mink-colored hair. “I’m guessing you never fuckin’ told him though. Bish doesn’t have any goddamn clue, does he?”

  Swallowing involuntarily, I tried to find words that would help cover me in the glare of Dare’s indictment. “Our breakup was mutually agreed.”

  “Bull-fucking-shit, Dory,” Dare breathed, towering over me as he called my bluff. “I watched him mourn your loss for fuckin’ years, girl. Try again.”

  I sighed, only then realizing I was twisting my fingers, tugging on them as I tried to get to the bedrock of truth. One that came out in a rush with a pleading for understanding evident. “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left. It was a few weeks afterwards when I went to the doctor because I was throwing up all the time…”

  His body jerked and I looked up at him, marveling at how such a skinny, almost scrawny kid had turned into such a handsome man. “But that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell him.”

  I swallowed around the huge lump of guilt and fear that had concealed in my throat, my brain racing, searching frantically to find an excuse, a reason that didn’t sound as phony as I needed it to be.

  His eyes when I finally looked back up at him, were narrowed almost glaring as he watched me.

  “You gonna tell him or am I?” There was no getting around it, no way for me to wiggle my way out of that one. Because for Stan to hear that he had a son, that J.R. was his was something I knew he needed to hear from me. Along with the full explanation of why I’d kept both the knowledge and his kid from him for so long.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “And are you gonna tell J.R?” Dare demanded on a hiss. “You gonna let that wonderful boy know he has a daddy worth knowing? One who holds more value in his little finger than ten other men you’d be lucky enough to meet in a lifetime?”

  Everything within me went to stone with Dare’s questions. Because it was one thing to tell Stan of a son he had no information about but quite another to face the accusation that was sure to be in J.R.’s eyes when I told him of his father—a person he’d always wondered about and wanted to have in his life.

  “Asked you a question, pretty girl,” Dare reminded on a deep fervent growl. “Because I’ve got the stones to tell the kid if you can’t.”

  “I’ll…” I started but had to clear my throat in order to squeeze out the rest. “I’ll tell him, Dare. I’ll tell both of them.”

  “Fucking right you will!” At long last, he took a step back from me. “I’ll give you fuckin’ twenty-four hours to get that motherfuckin’ shit straight.” He leaned in again, offering the last of his warning in a harsh whisper. “You get it said, Dory, or I swear to fucking Christ, I’ll do it.”

  I felt a wetness trail down my cheek and raised a hand to wipe it away. When had I started crying?

  “Now give us a cuddle, girl and make like we’re just old friends having a convo about old times, yeah? Because, your little man is on his way back to you.”

  Quickly pasting a smile on my face, I willingly went back into Dare’s arms before disengaging at the sound of J.R.’s voice.

  But I had no recollection of what was said after both he and Huff joined us. Or when Dare and Huff left. My guilt was too deep, my self-reproach too sharp to allow me to participate in my surroundings.

  The only thing I heard was the tick-tick-ticking of a clock, scared at how very, very short twenty-four hours actually could be.

  Chapter Ten

  The soft rapping on my room’s door found my hands trembling, shaking so bad I could barely get the wand of my lip-gloss back into its tiny barrel.

  Stan.

  Stan had arrived.

  And at the sound of his knock, all my carefully crafted words, the ones I’d spent creating and discarding in the hours since Dare’s ultimatum went up in a puff of smoke. Leaving nothing behind but ribbons of panic as my mind raced to get them back.

  I took one last look in the mirror, adjusting the low neck of my blouse only hoping maybe the unencumbered view of my cleavage might help soften the blow of what I needed to confess. But doubt dogged my steps as I teetered across the carpet in the highest heels I’d brought with me.

  Smoothing my skin-tight jeans over my hips, I reached for the doorknob while taking in a deep breath and pasting what felt like a too-bright smile on my then glistening mouth. “Hey, Stan,” I greeted, but even I could hear the tremor in my voice.

  Stan began to take a step inside but his foot faltered as his eyes took in the amount of skin I had on display before roaming even further south and then slowly moving back up again. “Damn,” he mumbled in a voice made up of more breath than volume, seconds before his eyes hit mine.

  I could feel my quivers even in the corners of my mouth as I tried to keep my smile in place. “C’mon in.”

  And he did, but he did it without ever taking his eyes off me.

  “I hope pizza’s all right. I remembered how you loved sausage and black olives, so I hope that’s still your pie of choice.” Who was this woman who was prattling on in such a deep, breathy voice? It couldn’t have been me, because I was buzzing like I was plugged into a wall socket or something.

  He turned his head away from where I stood poised, a practiced hand on a canted hip as the other sweated while it gripped onto the doorknob for dear life. “Can I get you a drink? I picked up a bottle of Patron on my way back from the storage place.”

  I saw he was looking around the room, his gaze moving everywhere but me before he finally replied. “No thanks, but I’ll take a water if you’ve got it.”

  Shit! In my imaginings of the scene, the one where I admitted to having his child and then keeping that news from him, I hadn’t accounted for Stan being completely sober. No. In my mind, he needed to be slightly buzzed, mild
ly turned on and replete with good food. I’d hoped the view of an awesome rack and a glowing belly full of booze would help soften the blow of what I had to say. But that disappointment wasn’t exposed in my simple, “can do.”

  Taking the same chair as the night before, I heard the whoosh of the seat as he settled himself into it. “J.R.’s not around?”

  I glanced at him over my shoulder, just then realizing I should’ve bent at the waist to retrieve a water bottle from the cooler instead of going into a knee-deep crouch. It had been too long since I’d thought to try and seduce a guy. “Ally and Mike invited him for an afternoon of gaming and junk food at the office with their son, Marshall.” Remembering the role I’d planned for myself, I carried on, but in a more sultry voice. “It’s just you and me.”

  But my pains to play the siren didn’t seem to be working. Not if the frown he wore as I sash-shayed towards him was any indication. “Is there something wrong, Stan? I thought it’d be easier for us to talk without him around. And you did say we needed to talk, right? Isn’t that why I made the trip?”

  His eyes wouldn’t meet mine as I lowered myself into the chair opposite, watching as he chugged half the contents of the water-bottle down in one go. “You used to do this,” he finally muttered after allowing a few seconds of quiet to settle between us. “Used to try and fuck with my head, my body before you dropped the boom.”

  I didn’t reply, but felt my shoulders tense. Was I really that transparent? The tension in my body increased tenfold going from trembling to shivering in the space of a heartbeat.

  “So what’s the fucking boom this time, Dory?”

  I slowly swallowed as my mind raced. My carefully planned scenario was quickly going to hell in a hand-basket.

  “What kind of fucked up news do you have to deliver, babe?” His words hung in the air above us and I swallowed, my mind racing at how best to start. But I was so scared, so terrified of what the next few minutes would bring.

  He sat the bottle of water down on the table before pushing his chair back. I was afraid he was going to leave, so fearful that he was going to just stand up and walk out the door. An exit that might find him hearing of J.R. from Dare.