Motorcycle Man
Page 52

I didn’t get into why Tack might know someone who did good work with fake identities and more, why whoever that person was owed him a marker. I had bigger fish to fry.
“You’re pulling in a marker for Elliott and Lanie?”
Tack cocked his head to the side then asked, “That woman mean something to you?”
“Yes, Tack, she’s my best friend.”
“Then yeah, Red, I’m pulling in a marker for Lanie. Normal circumstances, Belova could go f**k himself but unfortunately Lanie comes with him, she means something to you so that means I’m pullin’ in a marker for him too.”
“No you’re not,” I whispered, still staring at him and his brows drew together again.
“Say again?”
“You’re pulling in that marker for me.”
His hand twisted in my hair, his face got soft and so did his voice when he answered, “Yeah.”
God. Oh God.
That was thoughtful and sweet too. And it was also evidence that Kane “Tack” Allen had a big heart.
My head fell forward and to the side until it collided with his shoulder as my arms slid around him and got tight.
I felt his head turn and in my ear he said quietly, “Fuck, baby, just with that, you made callin’ that marker worth it.”
God.
Oh God.
My head snapped back, my hands fisted in the back of his tee and I ordered, “Be a jerk.”
His chin shifted back sharply and he asked, “What?”
“I can’t deal with sweet, thoughtful Kane ‘Tack’ Allen. You need to be a jerk. Immediately. I can deal with jerky Kane ‘Tack’ Allen.”
Tack grinned but said, “Sorry, darlin’, got you tucked to me, good food cookin’ in the oven, we’re alone and no one’s bangin’ on the door. Not in the mood to be an ass**le.”
“This is unfortunate,” I muttered. Tack chuckled. I felt his humor from crotch to chest. It felt way nice and his arms got tighter as his face got closer which was way nicer.
“You’ll get used to my sweet,” he promised.
“I’m not sure about that,” I warned.
His eyes changed.
Steely determination.
Oh boy.
Then he stated, “I am.”
Yep. I was right.
Oh boy.
“Tack –”
His face moved back a couple of inches and he said, “Roller coaster.”
“Pardon?”
“Food needs to cook a while. While it does, you’re gonna tell me about your roller coaster.”
I could do this.
“Can we get some wine and move to the couch where it’s more comfortable?”
“You uncomfortable?”
I wasn’t. Not in any way.
Though I’d be more comfortable with a glass of wine in my hand.
“You’re on your feet,” I pointed out.
“Red, you’re pressed to me crotch to tits. This is not uncomfortable.”
Right. Good to know.
Suddenly, I didn’t need wine.
“Roller coaster,” I said quietly and Tack nodded but I didn’t know what to say. Thinking about it after having been kidnapped, it seemed to pale in comparison.
“Tyra,” Tack prompted and I focused on him.
“I… well, you have a stalker ex-wife and problems in the Club and out of it that put your life in jeopardy. And Aunt Bette, Lanie and I were kidnapped. In light of all that, the roller coaster I jumped off that led me to Ride doesn’t seem much like a roller coaster anymore.”
“Pain fades,” Tack declared. “But tell me about it anyway.”
I held his eyes. Then I admitted, “Actually, now, it seems kind of lame.”
And it did. Total bullshit. Office politics. Stuck in a job I didn’t like mostly because the people around me were toxic but feeling my feet encased in molasses or, maybe, it was simply that I was too scared to take a risk and get the hell out.
“Red, those chops and potatoes need to cook a while but not a millennium. Tell me.”
“I was targeted,” I blurted and he blinked.
“Say again?”
“Targeted. I had a desk job. I was a supervisor. I liked what I did. It was challenging. It wasn’t a normal desk job where you do the same thing day in and day out. Every day was something different. I had a lot of work to do. I was never bored. I got paid well. I got to wear nice clothes. It wasn’t a passion but I was content. Content enough that I’d been there for a while and had no plans to leave. But, unbeknownst to me, one of my co-workers hated me and she’d been campaigning behind my back for ages. Shit-stirring and the brew was toxic. She’d turned a bunch of people against me. I just went to work, did my job, liked it and went home. I had no idea this was happening. It blind-sighted me when her brew was done and she started her spell in motion. I had no idea. She was kind to my face. No, not even that, friendly, out-and-out. I liked her. I cared about her. I knew about her life, her family. It wasn’t like we were best friends and she was over for dinner every night but she was, or she acted like she was, the kind of person in my life that she’d stay in my life no matter which direction we went. We’d exchange birthday and Christmas cards and stupid e-mails we thought were funny even if she moved to Florida and I moved to New Zealand. We’d be friends on Facebook. But it was a total lie. And all the people she filled with her toxin were two-faced too. I’d never experienced such poison. Such hypocrisy. It didn’t feel good to be lied to, that kind of thing never feels good. But smiling at me and sharing recipes while you’re stabbing me in the back? I don’t understand that kind of behavior.”
“Jesus,” Tack muttered.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And I was stupid. I was surprised, sure, but when it started going down I should have said, ‘Fuck this,’ and got out. Life’s too short to deal with people like that, their small worlds, their small minds, their venom. I didn’t and I got buried under it. I thought it would just pass. I was a supervisor and promoted to that position and I think, though I have no clue why anyone would do that to someone, she was pissed because I was promoted and she wasn’t. She was there longer than me. Or it could be I was younger. I don’t know. I don’t care. My boss said I didn’t have anything to worry about, ignore it, keep my chin up but it just kept coming. It went on for months. Stuff happened, things were said, done, just mean, catty, awful. I let it get to me. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. I couldn’t understand how someone would hate me so much even to begin a campaign like that much less go full-throttle for months on top of trash talking me for years. And she had been, Tack, behind my back trash talking me for years while to my face she was sweet. I let it get in my head to the point I wasn’t only not sleeping, I wasn’t eating and I couldn’t even brush my teeth because just brushing my teeth made me gag and I’d end up hurling.”