Page 11 of Claimed By a Knight

“Sorry, boss,” the scrawny guy says, holding a hydraulic jack into the air. “Slipped outta my fingers.”

Knight shakes his head and waves the back of his hand toward the guy to instruct him to carry on.

“We’re bikers,” Hush answers the question, once everyone’s off edge.

“Sure, we’re bikers. A motorcycle gang, some might even call it.” Knight pushes off from Hush’s side and closes the gap between us. When he’s about halfway, he stands facing the giant roller door leading into the garage. Outside, the late-afternoon sky is muddy and grey from storm clouds threatening rain. “What else? What do we do?”

Not to rush the point along, but in a rush to finish this conversation and race to Gracie’s side, I give the answer he’s looking for. “We’re businessmen.”

He lifts his left hand in a finger gun pointed straight at my chest. “Bang on the money.” Knight lowers his thumb, as if it were the firing pin shooting, and he takes a few more steps toward the grim outside. “The Knight Riders are opportunists. We’re not and never have been destined for greatness. We create our destiny. There’s nothing in this world that can stop us, so why should we allow some rabble to shake our foundation?”

“It’s not about shaking our foundation. None of us is rattled by a few noisy drunks and hotheaded fools. But we have to weigh the implications of acting against them.” I finish topping off my oil and chuck the empty bottle into a trash can.

“Implications? Is that even a word in our dictionary?” Knight scoffs.

“If it isn’t, it should be. We don’t need the law poking around our business.” I tighten the oil cap in place and move over to Hush, leaning against a silver workbench littered with bike parts, grease stains, and tools.

“Who said anything about the law? I’m not saying we should hurt these people.” Knight turns around, still walking, until he reaches the roller door. He stops just before stepping outside, and his wickedly narrowed eyes immediately make me uncomfortable. “I count two hundred heads of new clientele flooding into Boulder on a weekly basis. Maybe it’s time we get back to our roots, no? Sling some dope, get ‘em hooked on our product, and have them crawling back for more.”

He lifts his arms at his side, like some kind of Messiah, and takes that final step backwards. And as he moves from the workshop and onto the parking lot’s tarmac, as if he truly was some kind of magic man, the heavens open up and heavy rain soaks him in an instant.

“With the right combination of our goods, they’ll be sedated and calm. Malleable and easily manipulated.” Knight stares up at the sky, straight into whatever God cast this storm upon us, and smiles. “Why fight when we can win an easier war? Hell, line our pockets for eons at the same time. The Knight Riders are in control until we give it up. And we’re not going to do that for a couple of dickheads in fancy suits, are we?”

“No, sir. We ain’t,” the mechanic shouts from underneath the van.

Hush looks at me, then back at the boss, and shrugs. “Sorts all our problems out nice and easy.”

“That it does,” I add. I can’t say for certain why I’m impressed by Knight’s plan. He’s our damn leader, after all. But while I had my doubts and struggled to wrap my head around this new issue the Riders were facing, he was cooking up gold and not letting anyone in on the secret.

“Settled then? No more worrying about a few factories and their ill-tempered employees?” Knight steps back inside, and the rain that poured seconds before turns to a fine misting.

A mighty fine party trick if I’ve ever seen one. I’ll have to ask him how he made it work sometime.

“Done and dusted.” I slide my hand into my pocket and grab my phone to call Gracie. Her day should be done by now, and I can’t wait to hear her voice again.

Her email is the first thing I see, and I chuckle at it, realizing that the corporate giant’s only way of revenge is to trap her at the bank and waste her time. I pocket my phone, knowing she won’t answer if I call, and head over to my motorcycle.

“Anything else we need to discuss? I’ve got a hot date and don’t want to be late.” There’s no point in telling them the truth of the matter. Someone will worry, insist on backing me up, and I don’t want that hassle with the things I plan on doing to Gracie.

“Nah, head on out. Hush and I will iron out the details for things,” Knight says.

I start my engine and cruise my way to the bank, going as fast as I can without moving too dangerously over the newly wet roads.

8

GRACIE

“Are you some kind of moron? Why would I ever accept that deal?” Ezra spits as we go through the fourth of nine different plans for his investment. Where this whole thing started with him showing some, if a little, respect, once we started, he quickly devolved into a belittling, rude tyrant.

No matter what I say or the options I offer as they’re stated in front of me, Ezra meets them with criticism. I know it’s to whittle me down and make me feel small, but many of his accusations are directed at things totally out of my control. Interest rates that are too low, the term his money would be tied up, and the most recent comes from too little return on investment over a two-year period.

“Then we should look at the next option.” I keep the same smile on my face, finding it harder and harder not to tear him a new asshole for being so rude.

What Ezra doesn’t know is that there’s a line when it comes to impossible investors. He crossed it ages ago, and I could’vewalked out of this meeting without so much as a second thought with no issues coming my way. And where I’ve considered it a few times, to avoid the unnecessary attack on my character, the payout of having Talon swoop in to save the day is going to be so much sweeter now.

“Yeah, you better.” Ezra rolls his eyes at the offer, raising a hand and rotating a finger to say I must hurry up.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if you told me exactly what you wanted an account for. Are we just investing? Is it for retirement? Where?—”

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