Page 7 of Fearless
MARIPOSA
“Have you seen the shop yet?” Reaper’s hand remained clasped in mine as we walked through a quiet side street crossing the main road from the clubhouse.
“No. Was it already here or did you guys build it?” I asked.
It was fascinating to me how the Steel Demons and their families weren’t only squatting in this once affluent gated community, they transformed it and made it into their home.
“It started out as one of the ugliest homes here,” Reaper chuckled. “A two-story duplex, just this ugly-ass tall, rectangular building with no character. But the garages were spacious and really nice. They took up almost the entire first floor, so we opened up the ceiling, broke down the walls between the two duplexes, moved in some tools and equipment, and there you fuckin’ have it.”
He waved an arm as we turned a corner and there it was. The building was grey and stuck out like a sore thumb among the other nice houses on the block. But it had that masculine, old-school mechanic’s charm with both garage doors open, tools and motorcycle guts strewn all over the place, and hip-hop music playing on an ancient looking CD-player.
“Jandrooooo,” Reaper called as we walked up the driveway. “Where the fuck are ya?”
A man popped his head out from behind a wall. I recognized him as Larkan, the guard from the Sandia outpost who gave the Steel Demons information about the general who attacked them. And the guy Reaper’s sister seemed to have an instant-connection with.
“Hi, Reaper. Mariposa,” he greeted us with a friendly smile, wiping his hands on a rag.
“You can call mepresident, prospect,” Reaper hissed. “I’m not Reaper to you until you’ve earned it.”
I stifled a groan, but otherwise didn’t comment. These men and their ridiculous pecking order.
“Sorry, president.” Larkin’s smile faded. “Jandro’s inside. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
While he left, I turned around slowly to observe the place some more. Motorcycles in various states of assembly were everywhere. Against one wall, piles of tires in various sizes were stacked up nearly floor-to-ceiling. A few posters of bikini-clad women leaning over bikes in suggestive poses decorated the walls.
“There’s my baby.” Reaper came up next to me, pointing to a bike next to a work-bench. “Looks like Jandro’s been trying to realign her frame.”
“It doesn’t even look like the same bike,” I mused. “Last I saw, it was pretty much folded in half.”
“Mm. That’s why Jandro’s the best at what he does.”
I playfully nudged him in the ribs. “You realize I’ve never ridden on the back of your bike? At least, not willingly anyway.”
“That’s true, huh?” A mischievous spark lit up the president’s green eyes. “Wanna go for a ride tomorrow, sugar?”
“Tomorrow?” I repeated, surprised. “Jandro’s gonna be done by then?”
“I have other bikes, you know.” He pinched my waist until I squirmed and swatted him away. “What kind of MC president would I be if I didn’t have at least three?”
“So maybe I can ride my own.” I lifted my chin at him.
“Not a chance,” he laughed. “Not until I feel you all snug and sexy on my back at least once.”
“I guess that’s fair,” I said, but jokingly pouted anyway.
He ran his thumb down my plump bottom lip. “We’ll start you on a little dirt bike like Noelle’s. The fat boys like we ride are bigger and harder to control. Don’t worry, sugar,” he grinned at me. “We’ll make a Steel Demon out of you yet.”
“Que quieres, chingado?”
The voice made us both turn around to see Jandro wearing a white fitted tank top that made his arms and shoulders look even bigger than normal, and accentuated his warm, caramel skin tone. His hands were clean, but he missed a grease stain on his forehead, which did nothing to detract from his looks. If anything, it made him even cuter.
His hazel eyes widened the moment he saw me.
“Shit. Sorry, Mari. I didn’t know you were here too.”
“It’s okay,” I smiled. “It was thischingado’sidea to stop by and see you.”
Both guys snorted with laughter. Movement from behind Jandro in the house’s kitchen, which looked like a converted break room, made me look past him.
