Damian dying, then the wake, then that encounter with Lily.
Two weeks already , he mused. She had been beautiful, wily, and one of the few women he’d ever met who could actually keep up with him. Sure, he’d known that it was just a fling, and she had too—hell, she’d left without even saying a word, and that had left him confused. Normally, it was the other way around, so in a strange unafflicted way, he felt a certain respect for her having turned the tables on his expectations like that.
Then why can’t I keep her out of my head? he wondered, turning back to Jimmy who was still scratching his head with the wrench. He had more important things to worry about and he needed to focus.
“Don’t suppose you got a replacement?” Blake asked, not expecting much.
“I can rig up something homemade,” Jimmy offered, “but it’ll take some time—in the meantime, I’d take it easy on the ol’ girl. Try to ease up a bit—don’t know what you were doing with her, but she’s got some stress fractures in the gear. I fixed that up.”
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Blake offered, and patted the leather lapel of his coat.
“No, no,” Jimmy said when the bigger man tried to offer him an envelope of money, and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My treat. You don’t pay here.”
“You’re too kind,” Blake said.
In fact, ever since Blake had rescued the skinny kid from another rogue band of bikers in another gang that had been cruising through from down south, he’d considered himself in debt. No matter how many times Blake tried to pay the prematurely old mechanic, Jimmy wouldn’t hear anything of it, and the two of them had developed a rapport.
“Just out of curiosity,” Jimmy said, tentatively, “what’s the deal with the Ursas lately? I keep hearing things, and don’t know what’s true and what’s not. True you got in a fight with Ogre?”
Blake frowned. His encounter with the grisly biker back in Jack’s pub had become something of an apocryphal tale—how he’d single-handedly tried to keep order among the gang, and ended up dispatching one of the strongest members. The history of that encounter had had repercussions, both good and bad. On one hand, those who looked to Blake and saw him as an evidently strong leader thought it was self-evident proof of their faith in him. Those on the other side of the fence—and their numbers had been growing—who were now looking to Connor to step up in his father’s stead, had seen it as a blatant affront to the hierarchy of power.
With me in the middle, he thought distastefully.
“Hard to say, Jim, things are balanced on a knife edge,” Blake replied as Jimmy went into the back of the tiny renovated garage and plied two beers from a grubby white fridge in the back, returned and handed one back to his friend.
“Don’t know if I should be saying anything,” Jimmy began, “I try to stay out of things, especially with the Ursa Majors—just like you told me to. But sometimes, other folks come to get serviced and sometimes I hear things, y’know?”
Blake raised an eyebrow and sipped at his beer. It tasted foul, but it was alcohol, and that was enough for him. “Go ahead, Jim,” he coaxed.
“Well, one of the other folks, don’t know his name for sure—I think he’s one of Connor’s guys though, the two of ‘em grew up real close,” he stammered and then seemed to remember he had a beer in his hand and took a deep draught from it before finding the courage to continue, “I heard ‘em talking about things. Like maybe there was going to be a big discussion or meeting, a final one to call on a leader for the gang. Maybe, I could only hear a fragment, y’know. And I try to keep my ears clean.”
Blake frowned. So there were plans going on beyond his earshot in the background. It stood to reason, but he had hoped that the oldest members of the gangs would generally come together in the wake of Damian’s death and hold the morale and
Two weeks already , he mused. She had been beautiful, wily, and one of the few women he’d ever met who could actually keep up with him. Sure, he’d known that it was just a fling, and she had too—hell, she’d left without even saying a word, and that had left him confused. Normally, it was the other way around, so in a strange unafflicted way, he felt a certain respect for her having turned the tables on his expectations like that.
Then why can’t I keep her out of my head? he wondered, turning back to Jimmy who was still scratching his head with the wrench. He had more important things to worry about and he needed to focus.
“Don’t suppose you got a replacement?” Blake asked, not expecting much.
“I can rig up something homemade,” Jimmy offered, “but it’ll take some time—in the meantime, I’d take it easy on the ol’ girl. Try to ease up a bit—don’t know what you were doing with her, but she’s got some stress fractures in the gear. I fixed that up.”
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Blake offered, and patted the leather lapel of his coat.
“No, no,” Jimmy said when the bigger man tried to offer him an envelope of money, and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My treat. You don’t pay here.”
“You’re too kind,” Blake said.
In fact, ever since Blake had rescued the skinny kid from another rogue band of bikers in another gang that had been cruising through from down south, he’d considered himself in debt. No matter how many times Blake tried to pay the prematurely old mechanic, Jimmy wouldn’t hear anything of it, and the two of them had developed a rapport.
“Just out of curiosity,” Jimmy said, tentatively, “what’s the deal with the Ursas lately? I keep hearing things, and don’t know what’s true and what’s not. True you got in a fight with Ogre?”
Blake frowned. His encounter with the grisly biker back in Jack’s pub had become something of an apocryphal tale—how he’d single-handedly tried to keep order among the gang, and ended up dispatching one of the strongest members. The history of that encounter had had repercussions, both good and bad. On one hand, those who looked to Blake and saw him as an evidently strong leader thought it was self-evident proof of their faith in him. Those on the other side of the fence—and their numbers had been growing—who were now looking to Connor to step up in his father’s stead, had seen it as a blatant affront to the hierarchy of power.
With me in the middle, he thought distastefully.
“Hard to say, Jim, things are balanced on a knife edge,” Blake replied as Jimmy went into the back of the tiny renovated garage and plied two beers from a grubby white fridge in the back, returned and handed one back to his friend.
“Don’t know if I should be saying anything,” Jimmy began, “I try to stay out of things, especially with the Ursa Majors—just like you told me to. But sometimes, other folks come to get serviced and sometimes I hear things, y’know?”
Blake raised an eyebrow and sipped at his beer. It tasted foul, but it was alcohol, and that was enough for him. “Go ahead, Jim,” he coaxed.
“Well, one of the other folks, don’t know his name for sure—I think he’s one of Connor’s guys though, the two of ‘em grew up real close,” he stammered and then seemed to remember he had a beer in his hand and took a deep draught from it before finding the courage to continue, “I heard ‘em talking about things. Like maybe there was going to be a big discussion or meeting, a final one to call on a leader for the gang. Maybe, I could only hear a fragment, y’know. And I try to keep my ears clean.”
Blake frowned. So there were plans going on beyond his earshot in the background. It stood to reason, but he had hoped that the oldest members of the gangs would generally come together in the wake of Damian’s death and hold the morale and
Similar Books
