Biker Babe in Black Page 9

  For the most part, she forgot about Gloria and Mrs. Montgomery. The rest of the time, she ignored their behind-the-hand whispers and slapped a smile on her face. She refused to lower herself and knew they studied her for each little slip in manners she made.

  Remy cleared his throat to grab everyone’s attention. The caterers came out with trays loaded with champagne glasses for the guests. Her heart pounded harder, and her hand trembled. Afraid she’d spill the champagne, she held the glass with both hands. With no idea what Remy planned to do, she waited with all the other guests to hear what he’d say.

  “I invited you all to this little get-together to tell you something important.” Remy reached out for Margie’s hand and raised it to his lips. Her eyes burned, and she blinked a few extra times.

  “I wanted you all to meet Margarine, who in the last few weeks has claimed a part of my heart that I didn’t know existed. And, I wanted her to meet my family.” He kept hold of her hand and held his glass in the air. “To all of you who have found love. May you cherish it and hold it close.”

  Margarine lifted her glass, but before the champagne reached her lips, she stopped and cocked her head. A low vibration entered her chest.

  No.

  Not now.

  She shook her head. Maybe if she denied it, it wouldn’t happen.

  “Margarine, what’s wrong?” Remy set down his glass and removed the champagne out of Margarine’s shaky hand.

  “Oh, Remy. I’m sorry.” Tears filled her eyes, and she backed away. She knew sooner or later this was bound to happen, but why tonight? Why now, when Remy’s parents and friends gathered around him?

  “What the hell?” Remy’s father examined the glass figurine on the coffee table dance across the surface from the growing vibration.

  “It’s an earthquake!”

  Margie figured it was Gloria who came out with that silly deduction. Stupid girl.

  The men stood up and looked around, and she sensed their confusion at the alien noise enveloping the house. They didn’t know if they should grab the women and seek a doorway in case the house crumbled, or run to the window to find out where all the noise came from.

  Margie observed the chaos from the chair she’d sunk into in the corner of the living room. All she could do was sit and wait for the show that was sure to come the second the front door opened. She smiled up at Remy. A mix of apology and anticipation sparked inside her heart. Her family’s arrival always pleased her. They needed to work on their timing, though.

  Trained to tell how many would arrive, she cocked her head again. If she counted right, eight members of her family pulled up outside, ready to bring this party to a grand finale no white-collar folks had ever experienced.

  The door burst open. Remy stepped between her and the foyer.

  A man larger than life crossed through the door first. Dressed in black leather, with a beard down to the middle of his stout chest, he glared at all the guests and searched for the one person he sought.

  “Margarine Butter, you better get your ass over here and give your daddy a kiss,” he barked.

  Margarine forgot about her embarrassment. The months apart from her family caught up with her, and she didn’t care who witnessed the reunion. Despite her four-inch heels and a dress not meant for running, Margie leapt up from the chair and sailed across the room. She’d missed him so much the last six months.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” Margie gave her dad another big hug and looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s back with the rest of the group. We got a motel for the night. She wanted me to wait until we called you, but I couldn’t wait to see my baby girl.”

  Knuckles held Margie an arm’s length away and twirled her. “Hot damn, you must be making dough around here with the way you’re fancied up.”

  Margie forgot about her guests. She almost forgot about Remy. She hurried over to Remy and grabbed his hand to pull him over to meet her father. “Daddy, I’d like you to meet Remy. The man I work for.”

  Knuckles looked at the way his daughter’s hand was securely holding onto her boss. His face grew hard and he narrowed his eyes.

  “No, no, Dad.” Margie knew what thoughts flashed into her dad’s head. “Let me explain—”

  Knuckles drew back his arm faster than Remy could react and sucker punched him.

  “Daddy!” She moved to stand in front of Remy.

  He wheezed and she turned and rubbed his back as he bent over, trying to cough up a lung.

  “Remy, are you okay? My dad…” She frowned over her shoulder at her dad. “He doesn’t always listen first.”

  “I say, sir, you can’t come in here and manhandle my son in his own house.” Charles Montgomery stepped up, but Crowbar walked in and stopped him.

  “No one touches Knuckles.” Crowbar squared his shoulders.

  Charles pushed Crowbar and quickly found himself laid out flat on the floor.

  It all happened so fast; Margie could only stand there amongst the men in her life and stare at the madness around her. Four of the guests tried to fend off the Chromes and Wheels members, who laughed it up and only threw more punches to aggravate the guests. Her own dad held Mr. Turner in a headlock and poured a glass of champagne over the poor man’s head. She wanted to yank each one of her family members out the door, but knew they’d ignore her for the fun they’d created.

  Gloria came to Remy’s rescue, but Crowbar caught her from behind with an arm around her waist and held her dangling above the ground. Gloria screamed and threatened to sue if he didn’t release her immediately.

  Remy straightened up and jumped into the fray. Margie knew he’d sport two black eyes in the morning, along with a split lip. Blood already dripped down his chin.

  Abigail slipped her arm around Margie. Tears fell down Margie’s cheeks. Remy’s friends would never accept her now. Even Remy might not understand.

  Margie kissed Abigail on the cheek and hurried out of the room. She didn’t have much to pack, only what fit in her suitcase. She’d leave the clothes Remy bought her. Where she planned to go, she didn’t need anything fancy.

  She walked straight to the garage, bypassing the living room, where sounds from the fight continued. Glass shattered, wood cracked, and she knew no one paid attention to where she’d disappeared.

  She opened the garage door and wheeled her bike out. Reefer sat on his bike in the driveway; he played watchman wherever her family traveled. He alone held the responsibility of spotting trouble and getting them out without the cops’ involvement. This time, Margie wished he’d held off her family from crashing the party instead.

  “You okay, sister?”

  She sniffed and tried to smile at her good friend.

  “I will be, Reefer. You know me. I bounce.”

  “That you do.” Reefer rubbed his knuckles along the tearstains on her face. “Motel Six, off Thirty-second Street, you’ll find your mom.”

  Margie flipped down the visor on her helmet, opened up the throttle, and hit the ramp on I-5. The roar of the Harley Davidson’s engine reminded her of the eruption she’d left at Remy’s house. All her dreams of a life with Remy flushed down the toilet…. He’d never forgive her for destroying his house and reputation with his friends and family.

  Margie flipped on her turn signal, shifted down to third gear, and came off the highway. She entered the street where the motel her family stayed in sat. As she pulled into the parking lot, the bikes were the first things she noticed. This might not be a place one dreamed about running back to, but wherever she found her family was where she called home.

  One of her brothers worked on his motorcycle in the parking lot and stood up to wave. Margie parked and questioned Crock about where her mother could be found. More than anything, she wanted her mom’s arms around her, telling her everything would be all right.

  She found room number 32 and knocked on the door. Her mom yelled to come in, and Margie opened the door. Her mom sat in a chair
, sewing another patch onto one of her dad’s favorite vests.

  “Oh, Momma.” She threw herself down on the bed and cried. Her heart gave up the fight and broke into a million pieces.

  The mattress sank down. Her mom sat beside her, and with loving hands, rubbed her back. Margie hiccoughed and tried to quit crying. Crying never solved anything. But, she hurt, and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

  The differences between she and Remy drove the wedge between them; Gloria, her family’s involvement, and the fight back at the house were hurdles that she wasn’t sure they could jump. No, she’d fooled herself into thinking the relationship would work, but destiny had proved her wrong. Bad things always happened to her. Today it caught up to her and played a horrible trick.

  Sunflower continued to rub Margarine’s back, soothing her with kind words and reassuring her everything would work out. Margie closed her eyes. She knew tonight that her mom watched her back.

  “Sleep well tonight, Margarine Butter, and tomorrow your family will help you sort out your problems.” Sunflower kissed Margarine’s cheek and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The aroma of coffee woke Margie, and for a minute, she didn’t know where she awoke. However, she no longer panicked at finding herself in a motel room, seasonal rental house, or a strange bed. Her whole life was spent in different towns and states, one bed merged with the next night’s place.

  “Morning, sweetie.” Her mom, already dressed, handed Margie a napkin with a pastry on top. Margie smiled. Her mom knew her special love affair with chocolate donuts.

  Her mom stroked Margie’s cheek at the same time her stomach growled at seeing the donut. She never did have a chance to eat at the party last night, and all the previous day her nervousness about hosting had eaten away at most of her appetite.

  “Thanks, Mom, and thanks for letting me crash here last night.” She shrugged, embarrassed to have failed on her mission to live independently from her family.

  “You were in no shape to ride, and you know you’re always welcome wherever we are. That’s what parents are for.” Sunflower patted her on the head. Sometimes her mom forgot Margie was twenty-five and no longer a child, but she admitted to herself she enjoyed her mom’s care.

  “Do you want to talk about last night?” Sunflower sat beside her on the bed and placed her arm around Margie.

  “Nope. What’s done is done. There isn’t any going back.” Margie stuck up her chin.

  Margie’s mom nodded.

  She shrugged to let her mom know she’d survive this catastrophe, but even she knew her show of happiness fell short of the mark. This time with Remy was different. Her heart had gotten involved, and she’d never been in love before.

  “Do you have any idea where your dad is?” Sunflower stood and folded a mound of clean clothes.

  “Dad didn’t come home?” Margie’s forehead wrinkled. She tossed the last bite of donut in the trashcan by the bed. Did Remy call the police on her family after she’d left?

  “Mom, I think you’d better call the police department and see if Dad and the rest of them are locked up.”

  Margie still wore her leather clothes from last night, and slipped on the boots her mom must have taken off her feet after she’d fallen asleep. “I’ll go see what I can find out.” Margie grabbed her helmet off the floor.

  “Do you want one of your brothers to ride with you?”

  The concern in her mom’s voice stopped Margie at the door. She shook her head. “It’s better that I handle this alone.”

  She didn’t go back to Remy’s house. Her dad would either be in jail, or long gone to escape charges. Plus, she hoped to never see Remy again. Embarrassment, along with the love she still carried in her heart, made her break out in a sweat just thinking about running into Remy in her search to find her dad. No, she’d find her dad by herself. She didn’t need one of her brothers witnessing her fall apart.

  If her dad landed in jail last night, Margie decided she’d go back to the family, pool everyone’s money together, and hope they came up with enough to bail everyone out of the slammer.

  There was an unwritten code in the Chromes and Wheels bylaws that stated everyone helped one another—but she might leave them locked up to serve their time. In fact, the more she thought about it, the madder she became. Someone needed to teach them to ask her permission before they punched on people she tried to impress. Really, what gave everyone the right to run roughshod over her life?

  Twenty minutes later, she spotted the missing family members’ motorcycles lined up in single file along the curb in front of Betsy’s Truck Stop. She let the anger she held back surface now that she knew they were safe and having breakfast.

  She parked at the end of the long row of bikes and took off her helmet. Her family had ruined her life, and with no worries about her, sat and dined together. Jerks.

  A sudden onslaught of moisture blurred her vision. She ground the heels of her hands over her eyes and tried to rein in the tears. She took a few deep breaths to check her emotions.

  They all have to be taught a lesson so this never happens again.

  She shoved her motorcycle helmet back on with enough force to rip the chinstrap. With each step she took toward the door of the restaurant, she grew her angrier and angrier. They’re going down.

  She marched into the truck stop and found the group of them. They laughed it up around one of the big tables in the back of the diner. Not one of them wallowed in guilt. She stalked over to the table, her hands clenched into fists.

  Bulldog, the first to spot her, stood with his arms open to welcome her back to the flock. Margie sailed into his arms, leaned her head back and, using her helmet, head-butted him so hard he fell back across the table.

  Margie aimed her helmet-heavy head toward the next nearest body. Crowbar jumped up to escape the glass of orange juice Bulldog spilled. Margie’s helmet clipped Crowbar’s eyebrow, and the skin split wide open. God, I feel good!

  Crowbar grabbed the napkins off the table and, ignoring the spilled juice, slapped the papers against his forehead to staunch the flow of blood running down his face.

  She pulled off her helmet and stared down the group of men who hung their heads in shame. Her hands shook, and she clutched her helmet to her chest, afraid to let go in case she collapsed onto the floor in a broken heap.

  “That’s right! You should be ashamed. Because of you, I don’t have a job. I can’t afford my own home, and I don’t have the man I love.” Her chin quivered.

  “Now, Margarine Butter, you know—”

  Margie glared at her dad, cutting his lecture short.

  “I don’t want to be lectured. I tried, Daddy. I mean, I really, really tried to make it out there on my own. I got job after job and never gave up, just like you taught me.” Margie’s eyes stung from unshed tears. “I didn’t go out in the real world looking for love, but I found it. For just a few short weeks, I thought I knew what it felt like to be loved for who I am.” She moved the helmet and thumped her chest with her fist. “In one night, I realized who I am, and maybe I don’t deserve a life living in a grand house. Maybe I belong with you all… Maybe I’m not meant to have the life I’ve dreamed about all these years.”

  Margie’s whole body sagged, and she grabbed her dad’s shoulder to keep on her feet. The truth hurt. “Oh, Daddy, I wanted so much to love him…to be loved by him.”

  Remy walked out of the restroom and spotted Margarine instantly. His heart sped up, and he split his cracked lip again. The smile came too fast to stop.

  She kicked some serious ass. At least two other people sported injuries, and going by the expression on her face, it looked like she could still cause serious damage if someone crossed her path. He stayed far enough back not to draw her attention. Lord knows his body still ached from the fight last night.

  Margie removed her helmet, and Remy stepped closer. He wanted to hear what she said to the others. He walked over and s
tood right behind her, overjoyed she mourned the loss of him, but it served no point. No way in hell would he ever let her go.

  Margie slumped beside her father, and Remy wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “You belong with me, and I’d never give up on our love. Never.”

  Margie stiffened and ran her hands along his arms. He kissed the side of her neck, proud of the way she stood up to her family and rallied for him.

  “You belong with me, Margarine Butter, and this time I’m not letting you ride away from me,” Remy whispered in her ear. He supported her the instant her legs gave up the fight. “How would you like to go home with me and help clean house?” He raised one arm and bumped fists with Knuckles. “Seems there was a huge party last night and things got a little messy. I need a housekeeper in the worst way.”

  Margie turned in his arms, planted her hands on each side of his swollen, bruised face, and kissed him. Remy moaned in pain but continued right on kissing the woman who had stolen his heart when she bumped into him the very first day they’d met.

  Every single member of Margie’s family in attendance cheered and pounded the table—Except Crowbar, who sat in his chair, still nursing the head wound.

  Remy let Margie go long enough to say her goodbyes. He stood beside her dad, who threw his arm around Remy’s shoulder. Both of them grinned in a show of friendship. He never would have thought that Margie’s dad would have sat down and talked man-to-man after Knuckles beat the hell out of him, but they’d worked through the misunderstanding.

  “Sorry, Crowbar.” Margie gave the big guy a hug.

  “No problem, MB.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. For such a large man, he certainly possessed a sensitive nature.

  “Sorry about your eyebrow, Bulldog.” Margie kissed him on the cheek. “You might want to get that stitched up.”

  Margie turned to her dad and hugged him. Her eyes welled up with tears. Her big protector, it seemed. Always there for her, in good times and bad.

  “I love you, Dad.”

  Knuckles squeezed Margie to his round belly. “Right back at ya, Margarine.”