Page 27 of Come Ride With Me
“Certainly. I can be there in half an hour,” she told him.
“That’ll be fine. I’ll be here waiting.”
It only took Mica twenty minutes to get to the police station. She’d become very familiar with the streets of Destine. As she parked her car in front of the bakery and activated the locks before crossing the cobblestone street, she thought how much she’d also grown to like this town.
She walked in and looked around at a small space that reminded her so much of the oldAndy Griffithshow her mother loved to watch that she almost smiled. There were two desks a few feet from the door and further back another, larger desk, where she supposed the sheriff sat. Towards the back were bars, the jail cells, she decided with a sigh.
“Thanks for coming down Ms. Monroe,” Deputy Cedi said as he stood from one of the two desks where he sat.
“It was no problem,” Mica said. But as she started to walk around the two potted plants—that were dying by the way—positioned one in front of each desk, somebody yelled.
“Hey pretty lady!”
Mica turned towards the sound of the voice and was shocked to see Henley Waters smiling at her from behind those bars.
Nash
Nash stared at the offer letter one more time. He needed to even though this was to the tenth time he’d read it.
The Blackbond Group was offering him a job as Executive Designer. He would manage the entire design team at their factory headquarters in Alexandria. In addition to managing a team of engineers, Nash would also be designing his own line of bikes, one of which—the design he’d submitted to them for consideration—would be called the Bell927; the day Bell would have turned sixty years old. And as if that weren’t incentive enough, they were starting him with a high six figure salary, which was much more than he was making now, plus bonuses and a special commission on bikes that would be offered exclusively under his special brand.
It was his dream come true, and then some. A fact he’d reiterated three days ago when he sat in a booth at Spades, Destine’s only casino.
“What’s the problem?” Fury, the owner of the Blackbond Group and an old friend of Nash’s asked.
The man was eight years older than Nash and probably a good sixty or seventy pounds heavier. At six feet three inches tall, Fury Mathias was built like a beast—broad shoulders, wide chest, beefy hands. All of which had worked well as he played defensive lineman on his high school and college football teams. The fact that women loved his Aldis Hodge lookin’ ass was a plus for him and a burden for some of the other Ryders in the building.
The bonus for Nash was that he and Fury had remained on good terms long after Nash had decided to walk away from the Ryders.
“Who says I’ve got a problem?” He responded to Fury’s question with one of his own.
Fury chuckled and lifted a finger to rub over his chin. “Oh, you must have one since you aren’t jumpin’ up and down thanking me for this offer.”
Now, it was Nash’s turn to laugh. “Man, I ain’t doin’ no tap dance for you and you know it.”
With a slow nod, Fury continued grinning. “Yeah, I know. You’re a mean stubborn ass somebody. You just keep that shit on the low.”
Nash shrugged. “Trying to keep myself out of trouble.”
“It’s a good look for you,” Fury said, sobering a bit. “That’s why I had Zayn circle back to you. We need to make this happen, Nash. Get you on board so we can all make this money the right way.”
The Platinum Ryders owned this casino. Fury’s sister, Maleeka, managed it. His brother KC worked at Blackbond on the automotive side. Zayn was their cousin and he owned a couple of barber shops here in Destine and one a couple of towns over in Providence. But that was all a cover, a legalized shield for the criminal enterprise that had been built over four generations of the Mathias clan and the bikers who linked up with them.
It had taken Nash a couple of years of hanging with and then riding with the club to figure out everything that was going on. They didn’t give the newbies the heavy jobs so from the time Nash was fourteen until he turned sixteen, he’d hadn’t done much more than shoot pool and get pussy when he was at the compound. That all changed the first time Fury took him for a ride. And that shit further changed the day Nash decided to take the charge for his younger, eager, and definitely more stupid brother.
“It’s a really good offer,” Nash replied.
“Right!” Fury added. “So, sign your name on the dotted line and let’s get started. I can’t wait to get you an exclusive line of racing bikes. You know how much money we’re gonna make off those team sponsors and shit? I’m out here trying to make a legitimate name for myself and my family and I need you on board.”
Fury’s mother had passed away from complications of Lupus a few years back. His father hadn’t taken it well and mostly stayed in that big house down by the water where he’d raised his family. In addition to him, Maleeka and KC were all the blood family Fury had. The Ryders though, they were still about sixty deep and everyone of them would die for Fury’s ass. He may have given the official title of president over to Zayn, but there was no denying that he was still the boss.
Nash wasn’t sure he was ready for Fury to be his boss though. Which was part of the reason he’d asked for a few days to think things over.
That didn’t totally explain why he was sitting in his favorite recliner tonight feeling like shit though.
He’d been holed up in his apartment for the last three days having one hell of a pity-party and the rest of the apple cobbler from Lola’s.
He was angry with Mica for not telling him who she really was and even angrier with himself for falling so hard and so fast for a woman he barely knew.
