Loch: A Steel Paragons MC Novel Page 7

  “Her, isn’t it?” he asked from across the room. I cut my eyes, scanning the room. No one was paying attention. I shot him a look that let him know I wasn’t going to talk about it. “Off limits. I got it.” With that, he turned away from me.

  A little while later, Brass flopped down beside me. He had been the president of the Grey Fort, Tennessee chapter for over twenty years.

  “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here,” he said in a light hearted tone. I chuckled.

  “Yeah, man. But it’s not you,” I replied.

  “Oh yeah? Things good back home?”

  “Yeah, club is good. Just other stuff. I don’t know, brother.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Mostly because I didn’t know what it was to talk about.

  Reagan was new in my life. And while she walked in seemed to suck all of the air out of the room, I had no idea why. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It bothered more than it should have.

  “I gotcha.” He nodded slowly like he was taken away in a memory for a moment.

  “Dad,” his daughter, Gwen, broke through the silence a few minutes later.

  “Yeah, over here.” Brass held up his hand and waved across the room.

  “Oh, hey, Loch,” she said as she walked up.

  “Hey, Gewnie. How are you doing?” I asked giving her my full attention.

  I’d known her as long as she’d been on this green earth. She was always a bubbly kid. Always getting in to trouble, too. She was raised in the club. All the guys treated her like she was their own. I almost felt bad for any guy she ever tried to date. But then again, if she were my girl, I would want all the backup I could get.

  “Good, thanks.” She flashed me a sweet smile before she turned her attention to her dad. “Stacy is picking me up and we are going to go to the library and work on our project. I’ll be home by ten, I promise.”

  “Alright. Be safe,” he called out as she bounced off. “Fuck, what am I doing to do next year when she goes off to college?” He grumbled. I laughed.

  “Wow, hard to imagine. Seems like just yesterday she was crawling around here in diapers, hiding from the brothers under the pool tables,” I said and he laughed at the memory.

  “Yeah, and Cringer’s son be will done with college next year. Times are changin’.”

  Cringer’s son, Knight, and Gwen were only four years apart. Both born into club life. Growing up those two were inseparable. When Gwen lost her mother to breast cancer when she was only seven, Knight didn’t leave her side for days. Who would have thought he would take his name so seriously? I imagined it was hard on her when he left for college.

  “He comin’ back?” I asked. There was a time Cringer thought his son might go off into the world never to return. He wasn’t sure Knight wanted the club life.

  “Yeah,” Brass said. “He called me up just the other week. He wants to prospect when he comes home.”

  “I know that will make Cringer happy.”

  “Yeah. It will be good to have him here.” He nodded and took a long drink of his beer, looking lost in thought for a moment.

  “Somethin’ on your mind?” I asked, unsure if I really wanted to know. He shrugged.

  “It’s just my baby girl. She’s all grown up. And she has been distant since Knight left. I hate that she’s leaving when he’s finally decided this is the place for him.” He scanned the room almost like it was talking it all in. “Eh, maybe it’s for the best.”

  I nodded not having anything to add. I could sense there was more to the story but he wasn’t gonna say. Or it could have been that he didn’t know himself. Whatever it was, it would work itself out, I was sure of it.

  It all reminded me that I was apart of something bigger than myself. I had brothers. People all over that were there to watch my back. Families that I was an extension of. I got to be there the day two of Stone’s kids were born. The day Tank’s boy was born. I was at every birthday party. I got to watch these people grow and their children grow. It was an amazing feeling to be part of it.

  It was good to catch up with the brothers. It had been too long since we had gotten together. As the clubs shifted hands we got together less and less. We all had our own things going on. Even though it hadn’t been said out loud, most of us were making a move to legit. That meant we had more businesses to run, and taking time away from that meant shit got backed up. Like us, the Tennessee boys had opened a garage fixing cars. They were talking about opening a bar and a strip club as well. I knew the time was coming for us all to sit down and put an end to the gun runs.

  On Sunday we headed over to their garage. They were behind and we figured we could throw in a few hours to help out.

  “You got your fill, brother?” I asked Diesel as he came up to help me with the truck I was working on.

  “For now.” He gave me a smirk and I chuckled.

  We worked silently next to each other for the two hours. We were both men of few words. Diesel was smart, but most people never caught on to that fact. He would be in the room and even though you’d notice him, he never let on he noticed you. People figured he wasn’t paying attention and most times talked freely. He kept his head down and ears open. Always listened. Always watched, even if it didn’t appear that he was. Most of what he heard was useless gossip, but he seemed to know everything. He was pretty quiet. Until he got some ass in his room, that was. That boy was into some crazy stuff, and we all heard it throughout the clubhouse.

  The ride back seemed long. It was dark when we left and we drove through the late hours of the night. The highways around us quiet, save for the rumbling of our motorcycles. Which wasn’t enough to keep my thoughts at bay. All those thoughts revolved around one thing. Reagan. It was starting to piss me off. So much so, that when I got home I drank myself to sleep. Something I hadn’t done in a long time.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Reagan

  I woke to the sound of someone mowing the lawn. I shuffled over to the back window. I practically started drooling at the sight of Nate pushing a lawnmower. His faded jeans hung low on his hips, and his shirt was hanging out of the back pocket of said jeans. I clenched my thighs together at the sight of his sculpted bare torso covered with a light sheen of sweat. I thought he was hot before, but nothing compared to seeing him like that. All his sculpted muscles were on display. He had the well-defined body of a mature man. Tone and rigid. Tan and rough. A tattoo of the club logo covered the left side of his chest. There was something that wrapped around his ribs on the other side. But from my view in the second-floor window, I couldn’t make it out. From the curvy flow of the lines, I would have guessed it was a word or two. My fingers itched to run all over the lines of his ink. He turned and I caught a glimpse of his back. More tattoos covered the top half and wrapped around his right shoulder. A beautiful collage in shades of gray.

  He ran his hands through his damp hair, making it stick up in places. It only made him sexier. Thoughts of what he looked like after a good roll in the sack ran through my head. Then I imagined what it would be like to be taken by him. Vivid thoughts of what I wanted to do to that well-defined body stuck in my brain. Dirty, sweaty things. I groaned as my lady parts screamed at me.

  I pulled myself away from the window. It couldn’t happen and I needed to shut the desire down.

  I watched myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. The circles under my eyes were darker. I knew it would take more makeup to cover them. The bruises were hardly visible, but the evidence of that night still showed on my face. In the exhausted, sunken in eyes. The dullness in the color of my skin. The worried lines etched deep in my forehead.

  I sighed and spit the toothpaste out. I knew I couldn’t keep going like this, but what other choice did I have. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I couldn’t pull anyone else down with me.

  Nan caught me in the kitchen a little while later. I was drinking a cup of coffee and staring out the kitchen sink window at Nate. I was becoming shameless. I had turned back into a t
eenage girl drooling wistfully at the poster of her favorite boy band member on her wall. Nan looked at me briefly before pulling out a tall glass. Turning my attention away from the scene out the window, I watched as she filled up the glass with ice then sweet tea.

  “Take this out to him,” she said, holding the glass out to me. I snorted and shook my head. “When a man cuts your grass, you bring him a cold drink.” She gave me a pointed look. One that screamed ‘how dare you have no manners’ but at the same time said ‘it’s just the excuse you need to stop staring at him and go talk to him’.

  “You’re right. Since it’s your grass he’s cutting, you should take it out to him.” I smirked, proud of myself. She pulled the glass closer to her body.

  “Reagan, just as stubborn as your momma.” She paused for a moment. “Look, I’m not gonna say he’s a good guy because I think we both know that isn’t exactly true. That club is into some stuff we will never talk about. But he looks after his own. You won’t find a more decent man than Nathan Loch.”

  “Nan, it’s not…” My voice trailed off. I knew the words would never come out strong enough to be convincing. Her eyes went out the window looking at him. Mine followed suit.

  “Plus, that man has a tight ass. Could bounce damn quarters off of it.”

  “Nan!” Oh my God. I couldn’t stand there and listen to this. She smiled, her sweet but evil all at the same time smile. Her hand rose again, holding the glass out to me. She shook it back and forth, the ice cubes clinking against the side. I rolled my eyes, stomped my foot, then snatched the glass out of her hand.

  Nate looked up as I walked down the stairs off of the back deck. His eyes squinted against the blinding sunlight. The mower cut off as he stopped and released the handle. The air became too thick and quiet. The tea was shaking in my hand as I made my way over to him. My heart raced in my chest and I started to sweat, and not from the sweltering heat of the day. I held the glass out to him without a word, making sure to keep as much distance between us as possible. A smirk played on his lips as he reached for it, like he knew what I was doing. His fingers brushed against mine and a shiver shot down my spine.

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to,” he said after drinking half of it down.

  “Yes.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Yes, I did. It was this or listen to Nan go on about how tight your ass is.” To that, his eyes widened and a short, deep laugh escaped him. The sound sent shock waves through my veins. At that point, I wasn’t even surprised that I found his laugh sexy. My nipples hardened and I was glad they were hidden behind my arms.

  His expression turned hard as he took me in. His eyes searched my face. I knew I looked like crap, but he didn’t have to react that way. The nice thing to do would have been to ignore it. He stepped closer to me and I had to tilt my head back to look at him. His free hand came up. The pad of his thumb brushed along the dark circles under my eyes. Then he traced down the lines of my cheekbones and jaw. I held my breath and it took all my focus to keep my eyes from closing at his touch.

  “You’re not sleeping.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t feel the need to respond. Besides, anything other than a yes wouldn’t have been believable. “Reagan…” he breathed out. I stepped back and grabbed the still half full glass out of his hand.

  “Thanks for cutting the grass. It’s nice of you.”

  I turned around and did what I do best. I ran and hid. Well, it was more of a brisk walk. I didn’t want to go into it and I knew if I stayed there one more second, looking into his pleading eyes, I would have cracked. I would have spilled my guts and maybe even broken down in front of him. If that happened, he would look at me differently. I felt like I would die if I ever saw pity for me in his eyes. If I told him everything I’d been through and everything I was scared of, there would have been no going back.

  And that was something I wasn’t ready for. Hell, I didn’t think I would ever be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Loch

  I watched as Reagan scurried into the house. She was running. From me. From whatever was going on in her head. From something in her past.

  I wiped my damp hands on my jeans then pulled out my phone. I sent Bocca a message, knowing if there was anything to be found that he would be the one to dig it up.

  Me: Need to know everything you can find on Reagan Turner.

  Bocca: Give me two hours.

  I shoved the phone back in my pocket and continued my work. The grass didn’t really need to be cut; it could have waited another few days. I knew it was a stupid reason to try and see her. I had been gone all weekend, unable to get her out of my head. I had been back a day and I avoided the bar like a grumpy old man.

  I woke up that morning, like an addict, needing to see her. I knew she had the night off from the bar. I had a feeling she would lock herself away inside if she didn’t have anywhere she needed to be. It was stupid and childish of me. But it worked. I almost smiled when I saw her walking towards me. My eyes squinted, wondering if I was slipping into some kind of daydream. A heat-induced mirage. But it wasn’t, and she was right in front of me, chest heaving and sweet smelling. It took everything in me to fight the urge to pull her into me and claim her mouth with mine. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to resist.

  I’d noticed the exhaustion and stress before, but right then in the bright daylight, it looked worse. Her cheeks were starting to lose their fullness and I could see hollow now. I wondered if something happened while I was gone. I knew she wouldn’t tell me. She kept herself locked up tight and it was frustrating as fuck.

  I finished Ethel’s yard, then mowed my own. I took a shower and decided I needed to shave. I’d let it go over the weekend, and while I didn’t mind a little scruff, I wasn’t trying to have a beard. It was too hot for that shit. After I was finished and dressed, I hopped on my bike and rode over to the clubhouse.

  I found Bocca in his room, still deep into whatever was on his computer screen. I knocked on the door frame and he shifted his gaze to me. With a chin lift from him, I entered. He pointed to a stack of printed out papers on the edge of his desk. The stressed and grim look on his face was enough to make me feel uneasy. Without words, I knew there was something major I was missing. I picked up the pages and flipped through them. He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

  “First of all, she moved around a lot,” he started after he blew out a long, heavy breath. “She’s worked at whatever she could get. A few bars. Mostly restaurants and motels. A place called Fluffy’s Gentlemen’s Club in Dallas.”

  The thoughts of her stripping made a deep growl escape me. I hoped that it wasn’t the case.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, agreeing with my wordless discomposure. “Couldn’t find out what she did there. The place looks a little upscale, though. Checked out their website, there’s a hot, little Asian I wouldn’t mind seeing. Anyway, Reagan worked at a diner on the outskirts of Seattle for a while then a law firm around the same area. Looks like she was a receptionist or something. That’s where she’s been the last couple of years.”

  “So, why would she leave?” I asked, scratching the back of my neck. There had to be more by the look on Bocca’s face. My gut tightened as I waited for the fucking ball to drop.

  “From what I can tell, she lived with another girl that worked there. Reagan doesn’t have any social media accounts. She only has an email that she used for job purposes and to keep up with Ethel every few months. But her roommate has a Facebook and a love of posting every-fucking-thing. Found a bunch of pictures of them together on it. Then about six months ago the pictures and posts of the two of them faded away. Replaced by pictures of this guy the roommate was dating.” He pulled out one of the papers and showed me a picture.

  The girl in the picture had long black hair and I would have put her around Reagan’s age. The guy standing next to her had his arm around her shoulders. His face smashed against hers. He looked like he came from money. Or was
at least trying to give off the appearance that he did. Something about the look in his eyes made me raise a brow. He was smiling, but there was no light there.

  “You see it too, huh? I’m trying to find out anything I can on this guy.” Bocca shuffled the papers around and handed me another one. “So, Reagan’s roommate, Liz as she liked to be called, was pretty active on social media, but then it all ceased one day. Nothing. Not even a checkin. Hasn’t been anything in a while. Around the time your girl showed up.” He pointed to the paper. It didn’t slip by me how he called Reagan my girl. It also wasn’t lost on me how it made me feel inside. But it wasn’t the time to think about that.

  I scanned the sheet Bocca pointed at. It was an article on Elizabeth and Reagan. The police were looking for both of them, calling them missing. I flipped through the next few pages, only about four articles from different news sources in all. It didn’t seem like much to me. The last one I read stated that there was no indication of foul play in their apartment. So the police were leaning towards the idea that the girls had taken off on their own. But the parents of Elizabeth were pleading with people who might know anything. Insisting that their daughter wouldn’t have just taken off like that.

  “Any idea on where the roommate is?” I asked, my mind going a million different directions. I had more pieces of the puzzle but it wasn’t enough to show me the picture.

  “No. And before you ask, they questioned the boyfriend. According to the police report, he stated that he hasn’t seen her and has no idea where she might be. He told them that the last time he saw her was three nights before she stopped showing up to work.”