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“Yeah?” Talon asked, watching Gate rub his hand across his chest where his black tee and leather cut hid an old bullet wound.
“Be careful, man.”
Talon touched the old scar on his thigh before he spread his cut to reveal the shoulder holster with two nines and three throwing knives. “Bowie’s in my boot.”
Gate’s expression smoothed. “Later.”
*************************
Jenna
My new office at the university provided a modicum of privacy with a great view of the student quad, which was bursting with the green of spring and a rainbow of tank tops and short shorts while the girls lounged in the sun, showing off what their mamas gave them, and the boys tripped over themselves playing Frisbee and trying not to look like they were drooling.
The past ten years had been good to me, in more ways than one. I’d gotten rid of the stuffy suits, started working out, and lost about thirty pounds. Then I stood up to the college president, radically changed the curriculum of my classes, and rated a better office.
The president was too scared of losing my dad’s bank roll to say anything about it. Or too much of anything anyway.
I sat at my desk and nodded my head to the heavy rock station while I graded student essays. I had a passion for good stories and a doctorate from the University of Georgia that said I knew what I was talking about. I was never sure if my tenure as a lit professor had more to do with my resume and interview or my grandfather’s endowment of the university, but once I’d grown a backbone, the powers that be realized the wisdom of letting me teach what I wanted, so my courses tended toward a comparative analysis of classical literature and popular culture.
The faculty looked down their noses. The students signed up in droves. And since money makes the world go round, we know who won that battle.
I made another red mark on the paper, and my ear bud was snatched out of my ear.
I jumped, “What the hell?”
Whiskey brown eyes smiled down at me. “I knocked, but you were in the zone,” Kevin said.
Kevin Russell was handsome enough with great hair and a lean runner’s body. He wore hip clothes and could kick ass on trivia night at our favorite pub. I knew he was working his way around to hitting on me, but so far, I’d avoided letting myself get caught one on one. Until now.
“More like I was blaring Seether,” I joked as I pressed pause on my phone. Thank God for unlimited data.
“Why don’t you pack this up and let me take you to Bernie’s for oysters and beer?” Kevin asked.
Damn, Bernie’s is my favorite.
I gestured to the stack of papers on my desk. “Better not,” I said. “A prof’s work is never done.” I smiled to lessen the sting of rejection.
Kevin nodded, “Sure thing. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, maybe so,” I replied.Why can’t you be 50 pounds heavier with muscles and sleeve tattoos?
Kevin left, closing the door behind him.
I checked the clock and decided that if I graded two more papers, he’d be gone by the time I got to the parking lot.
*************************
Talon
Talon’s place at the clubhouse was more like a small apartment than a room. The furniture in the sitting area was cheap, but he’d splurged on a good bed, and while the bathroom wasn’t fit for a spa, for an MC clubhouse, it was the shit.
The room came with his title. Vice President. For a 48 year old former executive with an engineering degree from Georgia Tech, earned on a football scholarship, it didn’t look like much. But he could breathe free and sleep at night.
The past ten years had been good. To him. To the club. Especially once Gate, with the not so quiet backing from Talon, had gotten them out from under Moose’s thumb. Those first months had been dicey, brothers struggling with loyalty opposed to reason, but Moose had seen the light and left the gavel, saving face as well as bloodshed. He made out like it was his choice when they all knew it wasn’t.
Last anyone heard, Moose was riding out west with a new bitch on the back of his bike every state he traveled through.
Once Moose left and Gate took over, Talon had his choice of jobs in the new regime. Gate never understood the choice he’d made, hookers over guns and drugs
