Zach (Hell's Handlers MC Book 1) Read online

  Warmth filled her chest. “I know.” And she did. Her mother’s brother was more of a father to her than her own had been over the past decade.

  One week ago, a drunk college kid flying down the mountain switchbacks like some kind of wannabe NASCAR driver lost control on a near ninety-degree turn and careened head-on into her parents’ Honda Accord. All three lives were lost instantly. Toni wasn’t heartless, she felt sadness over her parents’ passing, but their relationship was so strained, she felt somewhat dissociated from true grief. As though it was the death of some distant relative, rather than the people who’d created her. She’d mourned the loss of her family years ago when they broke contact.

  They’d been the people who were supposed to love and support her, no matter what.

  No matter how bad she rebelled.

  Or screwed up.

  But they hadn’t. They’d turned their backs on her when she’d needed them most. Old hurts she barely visited any longer, but now she’d inherited everything they owned including a hopping business. And all the damage from the past had been a constant in her mind since she received the call from the police.

  “Toni? You still there?”

  With a shake of her head, she pushed the old ghosts to the background for the time being. Later, they’d probably creep back up on her, as they had been since she returned to her hometown, but she didn’t want any of her pain to bleed into the conversation with her uncle. He’d be on a plane in a heartbeat, showing up to battle her demons. “Sorry, I’m here. What did you say?”

  He chuckled in her ear. “I asked how things were going at the diner?” Fifteen years her mother’s junior, Mark was closer in age to Toni than he’d been to his sister. Toni had worshiped him like a beloved older brother her entire life. A life that she pretty much owed to him and the fact that he loved her just as much.

  “We re-open tomorrow.” She huffed. “It’s only been closed seven days for the funeral and everything, and you’d think the apocalypse was upon this town.”

  “People like their pancakes.”

  Even though he couldn’t see her, she shrugged. “I guess they do.”

  “Say what you want about your parents, but they knew how to run a business and they knew how to hire a damn good chef.”

  “That they did.” She glanced around the pristine diner once again. It was a fifties style diner with a long-curved counter running the entire length of the restaurant. The fifteen bolted down chrome stools with teal seats were always occupied as were most of the teal and coral booths against the windows. A black and white checkerboard floor covered the entire establishment. As a kid, she used to start at the black square that butted up against the entrance and see how far she could jump. Whenever Mark visited, he challenged her to a contest, seeing who could hop the farthest. They’d measure based on how many squares they leapt over.

  Toni heaved a heavy sigh. “Can I ask you something that might make you want to commit me?”

  “Sure, kid. You know you can ask me anything.”

  “Am I crazy to feel a little bit like I don’t want to sell this place?” She chuckled. “You know what, don’t answer that. The answer is yes. I’m crazy.”

  The silence that greeted her seemed to last forever. “Uncle Mark? You still there?”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy, sweetie,” he finally said. “In fact, I always thought you’d do an amazing job at running the joint. I still think that.”

  Toni couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. “Me? Run this place. Now who’s crazy? First off, I know nothing about running a business and, more importantly, I haven’t stepped foot in this place in over six years. I don’t have a clue how things are run anymore. Just because I wanted to own it as a child, doesn’t mean I could actually do it now.”

  “Oh, please, that’s such bullshit.”

  Toni pictured him waving his hand as he dismissed her statement. No one talked with their hands more than Mark did, something he had to work to curb when arguing cases in a courtroom. “You grew up in that place. Worked there since you were old enough to toddle a menu over to a table. It would come back to you in the blink of an eye.”

  “Working the counter and waiting tables aren’t exactly the same as overseeing the business. Besides, Mark, I’m a guidance counselor in Chicago, remember? I have responsibilities. Remember Christopher? My boyfriend?”

  “Ugh, as if I could forget that asshat.” Mark had been near hostile toward her boyfriend, Chris, ever since Chris stood her up for a date. It had been a miscommunication, and she’d never held it against him, but Mark had a long memory and wasn’t big on second chances. For anyone besides her, anyway.

  Despite the insult to her boyfriend, Toni laughed. Her uncle wasn’t one to censor himself. “Nice, Uncle Mark. Real sweet.”

  “Look,” he said, “Oh, hold on a moment.” The sound of a murmured greeting was followed by an audible smooch that brought a wide grin to Toni’s face and made her forget a few of her worries.

  “Ooo, Mark and Andrew sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Toni sang.

  Both men’s laughter could be heard through the phone. “You’re such a little shit, Toni,” Mark said.

  “Tell your hunky husband hello for me.”

  “He is hunky, isn’t he?”

  Toni laughed. “Damn straight. You picked a sexy one there.” Andrew was definitely classifiable as a hunk. But then so was Mark. And therein lay the reason her borderline bigoted parents had nothing to do with her favorite uncle. They just couldn’t accept the fact that he was gay. It rocked their perfect little, ultra-conservative, close-minded world.

  Mark hadn’t come out to the family until Toni was twelve. Right around the time her relationship with her parents began to crumble. It was part of the reason. One of many parts, but their reaction had affected the way she viewed her parents. Her mother especially. The idea of them writing someone, family, out of their lives boggled her mind. Little did she know, only a few short years later, she’d be the ostracized one.

  “Andrew says hi back. Now shut up and listen to me. I want you to consider something for me.” Mark paused.

  “Okay, counselor” she said, mostly because she felt he was waiting for confirmation she was listening.

  “You have six weeks until school starts again. How about, instead of hiring a temp manager to keep the diner running until it’s sold, you do it yourself?”

  “What? Me? Why would—”

  “I said listen. I did not say speak.” He used his sternest attorney voice, which was pretty much ineffective on her.

  “So sorry. My ears are wide open.” Her tone said she was anything but remorseful.

  “Always a smartass. Anyway, run the place for six weeks while you look for a buyer. Either you’ll be itching to dump it on someone else by that time, or you’ll fall in love and keep it for yourself.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” She ran a hand through her hair and stared out the front window into the parking lot. Her rented navy Ford Focus was pulling into the empty lot, driven by Christopher.

  “It is simple.”

  “Uhh, hello? Job? Boyfriend?” A boyfriend who’d traveled with her and helped her through this entire week of funerals, sorting through her parents’ belongings, will readings. A boyfriend who was striding from the car to the restaurant in an immaculately pressed suit. She’d left early in the morning, catching a ride with the diner’s chef, Ernesto. Chris had still been in bed when she left. Ernesto had been kind enough to spend his morning showing her the ropes. Payroll, inventory, ordering. All sorts of fun, business owner tasks.

  Why was Chris wearing a suit? It had to be eighty-five degrees. She was in cutoffs and a tank top. A far cry from the preppy skirts and button-ups he usually saw her in.

  “A job you’re frustrated with and a man that’s a dud,” Uncle Mark said. “Come on, girl, you’re in a rut and you know it.”

  He may have had a small point, about the job anyway. She’d become a guid
ance counselor to help kids like herself. Rebellious kids one bad decision away from wrecking their futures. Kids she could relate to because she’d made so many of those poor choices in her own teenage years. Lucky for her, Uncle Mark had stepped in and dragged her out of a life that would have chewed her up, spit her out, and left her for dead on the side of the road. And that wasn’t an exaggeration.

  Once she’d gotten her act together, she completed her GED, went to college, and set out to help those just like her. But it wasn’t working out that way. After a few weeks at her first school, she realized her ability to do much of anything impactful was hobbled by privacy laws, state regulations, and those damn standardized tests. Most of her days were spent helping kids and teachers prepare for those exams and helping seniors plan for college. Worthwhile, yes, but she’d wanted to focus on the kids slipping through the cracks, and that just wasn’t happening.

  As Christopher’s long legs ate up the distance between the car and the door, she said, “Stop ragging on Chris. He works for your law firm, for crying out loud. I met him because of you. Doesn’t that mean you like him, at least a little bit?”

  “I like him fine as an attorney. As an employee of my law firm. But he’s just not for you.”

  “Well, that’s not your decision now, is it, Uncle I-have-the-best-man-ever-so-I-look-down-on-all-other-boyfriends?”

  “Aww, you’re so sweet, Toni.” Andrew’s voice sounded like it was at the end of a tunnel.

  She laughed. “Am I on speaker phone?” Chris waved as he caught sight of her through the window. His smile was wide and welcoming. A nice, handsome smile full of straight, white teeth.

  Seriously? Straight teeth? That’s what she noticed?

  Her heart didn’t even pitter let alone patter.

  “Yup, you are definitely on speaker.”

  “Well, I gotta go, you two. Chris is here to pick me up.”

  “Think about what I said,” her uncle ordered.

  “I will. Love you both. Bye!”

  She hung up before Mark could provide any additional words of wisdom but had to admit her interest was piqued. It was summer. She didn’t have to work. She could use this time to reconnect with people she hadn’t seen in years. People she knew as a kid but were now strangers. Maybe it would be good for her to spend some time in the place where she’d made her biggest mistakes. Cathartic. She wasn’t a careless teen anymore. She was a respected member of society. Plus, she had a place to live. Work to keep her busy.

  Hmm. Maybe Uncle Mark was on to something.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Chris said over the jangle of bells as he walked into the diner. He came straight to her and dropped a quick kiss on her upturned lips.

  No zip.

  No zing.

  No wham.

  No pow.

  Not even a flicker of excitement or arousal.

  Damn it. And damn Mark for making her face what she’d been ignoring since…well, basically since her first date with Christopher.

  He was a dud. A nice man who had a stable job, good apartment, fine family, enjoyable friends. A good-on-paper man who just didn’t get her motor revving.

  “Hi, honey,” she said, giving him what she hoped was a happy-to-see-you smile. “Let me grab my purse and I’m ready to go. You pick up something for dinner?”

  His eyebrows drew down and a frown marred his face. “What’s with the outfit?”

  As Toni slung her handbag over her shoulder she glanced at her clothes. “You’ve been here a week. This is how everyone dresses here. It’s a very casual town. No one puts on airs.” Her parents had, but that was a separate issue.

  “Yeah, but that’s not how you dress. I’ve never seen you in anything that didn’t scream of preppy.” Chris winked. “It’s one of the reasons we fit so well.”

  Huh. Is that how he saw her? It certainly wasn’t what she felt represented who she was. Wasn’t who she used to be. Ugh. This damn trip was making her delve way too deep into her psyche.

  “It’s hot. You’re the one who looks out of place here.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  When they reached the exit, Chris held the door for her. Impeccable manners ran in his blood. Just as she was about to step into the warm evening, a sign in the window caught her attention. “Wait one sec.”

  She peeled the sign down, leaving two sticky squares of tape behind.

  We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. No Bikers Allowed.

  Under the text was a circled motorcycle with a line through it. Her whole life she’d hated that sign. There wasn’t a person in town who didn’t know some member of the Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club, and while they weren’t exactly on the up and up, they deserved to be able to eat where they chose.

  Perhaps it was juvenile, and perhaps it was wrong to ignore the wishes of the recently deceased, but removing the sign made her feel lighter. Her final act of rebellion against two people who’d never understood or accepted her or so many others.

  “Why are you taking that down?” Chris asked. “Are you going to allow those lowlifes to eat here?”

  Toni smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am. It’s a breakfast joint. I lived next door to a biker and his family my whole childhood and nothing bad ever came of it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Chris shot her a concerned look just as the roar of a motorcycle filled the quiet evening air. The setting sun glinted off a black and chrome beast of a bike as it slowed passing the diner. The rider turned his head and stared straight at the empty spot in the window. Between the helmet, riding glasses, and bandana over his face, she couldn’t make out a single one of his features, yet somehow, she knew he was smirking.

  Chapter Two

  “You wound me, Bill,” Zach said as he leaned against the man’s silver BMW. He folded his arms across his chest, making sure to keep the Louisville Slugger—who he’d named Louie—on full display.

  From his spot on the ground, in the driveway of his isolated three-million-dollar mansion, Bill groaned. He was curled up in the fetal position after Louie had made contact with his rich-guy soft gut.

  “Fuck you,” Bill coughed and groaned again.

  With a chuckle, Zach bent forward until he was just a foot away from Bill’s grimacing face. He tapped the bat against Bill’s leg and couldn’t hold back a laugh when the man jumped like a skittish little girl. He was typically more about the intimidation than actually beating on people, but Bill had been a thorn in the club’s ass for months now.

  “Okay,” he said around a smirk. “Maybe you’re a little bit right. I do get some pleasure out of this, but what you seem to forget, Billy-boy, is that I don’t have to be here. I don’t seek you out to get my jollies by beating your ass. You’re the one who keeps crawling back to my club, begging for money so you can feed the slots. Or is roulette your game of choice? Craps?”

  The MC had a very lucrative loan sharking business, fueled by idiots like Bill who couldn’t seem to get a handle on their vices. At a fifty-point vig, the money their clients owed added up fast, especially if they missed the fourteen-day payback timeline. In that case, the fifty percent interest was added to the original loan and recalculated. After another two weeks, Zach came by for a little visit. Just a gentle reminder of the contracted agreement.

  “I asked you a question, Billy.” Zach stood and swung the bat like he was chasing a home run ball. The wood whizzed through the air at least three feet above Bill’s head, but he still curled tighter with his head cradled in his arms.

  Pussy.

  Like Zach would actually bash the man’s head in. Men with splattered brains couldn’t pay back their loans. But men with broken kneecaps sure could. And usually did, very fast.

  Those results were why a hefty bat was Zach’s motivator of choice. He could show up at a client’s house with a gun, but then he’d have to shoot sometimes, and that was undesirable for a number of reasons. First off, it was messy as hell. Who had time to c
lean blood anyway?

  Then there was the bullet, which if removed and collected for evidence, could be traced back to Zach and the MC. Exactly the opposite of what Copper wanted from him in his job as enforcer for the club. And lastly, there was always the chance he’d miss the mark and kill some poor schmuck that owed them money.

  And again. Dead men couldn’t pay.

  For the same reasons, he stayed away from knives. His own fists would work just fine, but then he’d be walking around with permanently bruised knuckles.

  So, a bat it was. Clean, effective, untraceable.

  Good stuff.

  “You pussing out on me here, Bill? Come on. Tell me what you blew my club’s ten grand on.”

  “P-poker.” A nasty cough followed a wheeze as Bill struggled to a sitting position. Sweat dotted his receding hairline and his skin took on a grayish pallor.

  “Deep breaths, buddy. Got your diaphragm good there, didn’t I.” Zach laughed. “Damn, man, I guess I really do enjoy this shit. Hey, Bill, anyone ever tell you that you suck at poker? Now, I shouldn’t be giving you this advice since I’ll be eating a nice steak dinner on you soon, but you might wanna find a new hobby.”

  “Th-this is the last time,” he coughed and groaned, clutching his portly stomach. “I s-swear it.”

  “Well…” Zach spun the bat like a baton twirler. He’d spent so much time with it over the last few years, he’d mastered some fancy tricks. “Don’t quit on my account. As we’ve just learned, I seem to enjoy coming ’round and busting kneecaps. Which reminds me. This is your last warning. You’re up to twenty-two thousand, five hundred now. I’ll be back in two weeks. You don’t have it, I take this as collateral.” He rapped the bat against the tire of the man’s fancy ride. “I suggest you march right in that big old house you can’t afford and start crying to your wife. Maybe she’ll take pity on your pathetic ass and crack into her trust fund.”

  Zach started down the driveway then spun and pointed the bat at Bill who was still on his ass in the driveway. “Oh yeah. Almost forgot. I’ll break a bone too. My choice.”