Chapter Thirty-Four
Rows and rows of motorcycles, mostly Harleys, were parked in front of the Club Rachelle, and more rumbled up and down the streets. Terri and Ryker Slade were members of a charitable motorcycle club, the Metal Wolves, which used to be a 1% outlaw biker club.
After Ryker’s father, Ernie Slade, had gotten out of jail only to be killed in a shootout with Terri’s mother, who was an old lady for the head of the Storm Demons, both clubs had disbanded from their outlaw activities.
Nowadays, they were sexy men who spent their time fixing bikes, lifting weights, and raising money for charities by organizing rides and events. Ryker’s brothers, Drake, Maddox, and Thorn, had ridden all over the country in support of veterans and were FacePlant models and bloggers. The club with its jackets, patches, and accessories were all part of the show they put on for their fans. They even had a “thuglife” app which allowed their fans to capture selfies and paste sunglasses, cigars, and handlebar mustaches to decorate their faces.
Leanna arranged the layers for Terri’s baby surprise cake. It had several tiers, depicting the phases of raising a baby from birth to college graduation. Denton’s 3D printer had come in handy when Nikki got the idea to print fake dollar bills to spread over the top layer, along with a graduation hat and a roll of fondant for a college diploma.
Marisa, a stocky brunette who was engaged to an Irishman, streamed through the door carrying an assortment of plants. Since Terri was a florist, they hadn’t wanted her to arrange her own flowers, so Marisa stepped in and did a naturalistic green arrangement with leaves, ivy, and succulent cacti.
“How was Mexico?” Marisa asked, not knowing the details of Leanna’s trip. “I see you got a tan.”
“I always have a tan,” Leanna said. “Where’s Liam?”
“Oh, he’s hanging outside admiring the motorcycles,” Marisa said. “I don’t like the idea of him riding one—not on the narrow roads in Ireland.”
“Relax,” Leanna said. “Once they have kids, they cut back. Axe’s daughter’s too scared to ride, so he hasn’t been pressuring her.”
“How’s she adjusting?” Marisa asked, and Leanna noticed Nikki and Jolie sidle closer. Her friends were unnaturally curious because they intuitively knew Leanna hadn’t told them the whole story. It had been quite a shock already when she returned with two teenage girls.
No way would Leanna ever admit she killed two people, maybe three. Neither would she let on that Axe had conquered her heart, which was now broken and left in the dust.
“She and Axe went out to dinner.” Leanna glanced at the clock. “They’re not back, so I figure it’s going well.”
“Maybe he’ll spend the evening with her and not show up here,” Nikki said, triggering another wave of anxiety where Leanna wavered between wanting Axe to show up and not wanting to ever see him again.
His unanswered text message sat heavily on her phone. He wanted to talk, but not tonight.
“He needs to spend more time with her,” Leanna said. “She’s been through a lot, moved from home to home, and never saw who she spoke to every Christmas. They had her go on video-chat, but disallowed Axe from showing her a video of himself, so she basically spoke to a blank screen and a voice.”
“That’s so creepy,” Jolie said, shivering. “The voice is her father, and that’s all she knows of him?”
“Poor kid,” Leanna said, not letting on that there was ever a hostage exchange situation. The less her friends knew about the “protection business,” the better. “Hey, I see Carol. Let’s help her bring in the speakers and video screens.”
Carol Cassidy was Jolie’s sister-in-law and used a wheelchair to get around. She was also one of the most energetic dancers on their dance team and a spokesperson for Wheelympics, a charity helping children who used wheelchairs to compete in sports.
Her fiancé, Big Bad Nick Wolff, a hyper-muscular paramedic, walked in with two speakers under his bulging arms.
“Wow, what a cake!” He chuckled. “You ought to tie a huge ball and chain to one of the legs, and you’re missing a minivan.”
“That’s right,” Carol chortled. “Do they make baby seats for Harleys?”
Everyone laughed as Carol did a wheelie and spun her chair around. Leanna exchanged hugs with Carol and Nick. They had postponed their joint bachelor and bachelorette party, including the cupcake and jellyroll eating contests, and waited for her to return.
“Heard you have a 3D printer,” Nick said. “I want mine made with chocolate. She loves to lick chocolate.”
“Oh, but chocolate melts,” Carol said, giggling. “I would think hard confectioner’s sugar would be more durable.”
“Can’t wait for the cupcake eating contest.” Nick wiggled his tongue. “I’m sure to win.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ken, Jolie’s husband, swaggered toward them trailed by streams of Mylar balloons. “Cupcakes are not like the real thing. They fall apart too easily.”
“I wonder where Gage and Sherelle are,” Nikki said, looking at her watch. She snapped a picture of Ken and Jolie kissing while the balloons half-hid their faces.
“They have the longest drive,” Leanna said. Their latest friend to hook up with her forever-man was Sherelle Edwards, who gave up her environmentally conscious catering business, moved out of San Francisco, and bought a roadside diner high up in the Sierras. “Anyway, I have to touch up the icing before Ryker brings Terri.”
“Do you have enough pink left?” Jolie asked. “I can outline all the letters with pink.”
