When we get up to leave, she tells me, “Thank you for bringing me here today. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.”
“I thought you should see the routes your trucks take from up here after today,” I say.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she murmurs. “Taking over my grandfather’s businesses is a huge responsibility. I haven’t had much time and energy to visit his custom chopper shop.”
“There’ll be time for that,” I tell her.
We meander over and get on my bike, carefully putting our trash in the back compartment. When I start the engine and her arms come around my waist, I realize being with Nova feels like home, no matter where we are in the world.
I back onto the road and we head back to the clubhouse.
She’s closer than she needs to be for the ride home, but I don’t move or say anything about it. She lost her grandfather and the club she grew up in. She’s grieving and still somehow manages to worry about her grandfather’s legacy and spend time getting closer to me. I am in absolute fuckin’ awe of this woman.
By hook or by crook, I’m now her husband, and it’s my job to support her and make sure things go right in her life. I can help ease her through her grief, be her numbers guy at work and hold her when she’s upset. But I can do this other thing, the one thing she thinks is impossible. I can help the men who lost their club the night their clubhouse went up in flames.
I can help Mac and Buck and Hawk get back what they lost because I’m fuckin’ smart that way. My whole damn life, being the smart one has virtually been a liability for me. It’s the thing that made me different, odd, and unusual. My peers in school treated me like some kind of idiot savant at times. I gotover it and now I’m going to use the brains God gave me to solve an unsolvable problem. And goddamn that feels good.
***
As we ride back to the clubhouse, I take the long scenic route. I feel like my brain is on fire with ideas. They just keep sparking one after another, and I file each of them away for later use.
When we pull up to the clubhouse, TJ opens the gate. Nova’s arms loosen as we slow down and wait for the gate to open fully. I park, cut the engine and we walk inside together.
“Today was a really good day,” she says. “I want to thank you for letting me talk about my grandfather and how much it hurts to lose his club.”
“Are you kidding? I love hearing about your family. Vulture was an enigmatic man, more myth than legend. I’m really sorry he passed before I really got to know him.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too. I hope you don’t lose anyone close to you, Mica. It hurts more than most people imagine.”
I watch her go, and then I reach my hand into my pocket. I pull out the Zippo lighter with the Vulture carved into the front and light a flame. I wish her old man were here to yell at me for having my hands on his favorite lighter. We’d probably get into a scuffle over it before my family broke us up.
Somehow, I’m going to make this right again. And this time I mean more than the club.
Chapter 9
Nova
Afew days later, I’m sitting at the bar going over the Titan Pantry contract on my laptop when Charity sits down two stools over. My hackles are already up because I know club girls can be snarky with old ladies, especially when an outsider snags a super-hot club officer like Mica. He’s easily the catch of the century around this clubhouse.
She looks over my property cut, then at my laptop and finally at my face.
“So, you’re the new old lady,” she says.
Her tone isn’t quite what you would call hostile. It’s just flat and emotionless. I can tell she’s got a problem with me, though.
“My name’s Nova,” I say, and go back to my work.
She snorts a laugh, bringing out one hand to make a starburst gesture. “Noovaaa. Like supernova.”
“I drive a ‘68 Nova. My gramps named me after his favorite muscle car.”
She shrugs carelessly with one bare shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Nova’s a club girl name, not an old lady name. Were you a club girl?”
“No. My gramps was the Prez of Vulture’s Pride.”
“I know who you are.” She grins. “I was just havin’ a little fun with you.”
“I’m not bothered by you. Club girls have hard lives. They’ve gotta get their jollies where they can, I guess.”
