Retribution (The Lone Riders MC Series Book 2) (3 page)

Four

‘How do you want me to play this, Charlie?’ Ben kicked the car door shut and leaned back against it.

‘You play it any way you have to. Just make sure that divorce comes through quickly, and I’ll deal with the aftermath this end. Can you make that happen?’

 
‘I’m not sure it’s gonna be quite as easy as you think…’

‘Just do it, Ben. I don’t give a fuck
how
, okay? You’ve dealt with this kind of shit before, so, just do it.’

Ben ended the call, throwing his head back and sighing heavily. So much for that peace and calm that had descended over the Lone Riders compound these past few months. It looked like normal service had been resumed.

‘You back here again?’ Luca asked, pulling up alongside Ben.

Ben looked at him. ‘No. I’m just a hologram. I’m really back in the office reading through case notes.’

‘Yeah. Just what we need. A lawyer who thinks he’s a comedian.’

‘Don’t knock it. You might need me to bring that sense of humor into play one day.’

Luca smirked before roaring off out of the compound. Ben watched as he sped out on to the main street, and as he always did when he saw any of the guys ride, he wondered what it would be like to get back on a bike. He’d never really plucked up the courage to do that after a bad accident a few years back had seen him come off his Harley, resulting in some horrific injuries that had taken him months to recover from. Nothing life threatening, but he’d been pretty badly shaken. Enough to have never gone near two wheels again. But he was about to turn forty any day now. Maybe it was time to stop acting scared, because the pull of the open road had never left him. It was always there. And maybe that’s what had really attracted him to this job – the fact he’d once been a biker himself. It was certainly the reason why
Tay
had asked him to come and work for the club. Not everyone knew the full extent of his biker past, but Tay Farlow did. Hence that phone call five years ago. Ben Salter had once been a man who’d loved his Harley, and the freedom it had given him. Saying goodbye to that had been hard, but he’d had no choice.
At the time.

Slipping off his suit jacket he opened the car door and threw it on to the passenger seat. It was a warm day, and he felt like going casual. Rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing a multitude of tattoos that covered his forearms, and beyond – a throwback to his biker days – he picked up his briefcase and made his way over to the clubhouse, raking a hand through his hair as he walked, letting the warm sunshine lighten his mood. Because he suddenly felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Stepping inside, Ben was thankful that everything seemed a lot cleaner than it had appeared yesterday. Looking over towards the small kitchen he noticed Angie Farlow hard at work, scrubbing the counter tops like her life depended on it, and Ben wasn’t altogether sure that was a good sign. He’d once heard Lexi say that her mum usually went on a cleaning frenzy when she had things on her mind, and if that was true, then Ben only hoped that whatever Angie was concerned about had nothing to do with this job he’d just been given.

‘Ben!’ Angie beamed, pulling off her rubber gloves as she walked towards him. ‘You here to see Mia?’

Ben nodded, taking another look around him. There was a completely different atmosphere in the clubhouse than there had been yesterday, but that didn’t surprise him. One minute this place was party central, the next it was all peaceful and quiet. Nothing unusual in that.

‘Do you want a coffee, or something stronger, maybe? While you’re waiting?’

‘Hmm? Sorry?’ Ben looked at Angie, a woman who belied her fifty-something years with her red-streaked hair and killer figure, something Lexi had definitely inherited from the former Queen of the compound. ‘Erm, no. No, thank you. I’m fine. How – how’s
Tay
doing?’

Angie smiled, leaning back against the bar, digging her hands into the pockets of her spray-on jeans. And there weren’t many women of Angie’s age who could get away with those the way she could. ‘He’s doing just fine, I guess. Although, sometimes I think he misses the kick being President of this club could give him, but…’ She shrugged, her eyes dipping to the floor, just for a second or two. ‘I’m glad he’s out of it.’

Ben leaned back against the bar beside her, putting his briefcase down on the floor and folding his arms. ‘You worried about Coby and Lexi taking over the reins?’

Angie shook her head, smiling slightly. ‘Coby is a more than capable President. And Lexi can look after herself.’

That didn’t really answer his question, but Ben knew better than to dig too deep. ‘And, are you okay about Mia coming over to
Paradise
?’ Ben continued, his eyes fixed firmly on Angie, her gaze now back down on the floor.

‘It wouldn’t matter
how
I felt about the situation,’ Angie replied, lifting her head, her eyes once more meeting Ben’s. ‘Not any more.’

It was Ben’s turn to look down, his hands now in his pockets. There was something there, in Angie Farlow’s voice, that told him she probably wasn’t the biggest fan of what was happening, but he also knew that she was right – she had no major say now in any decisions concerning the club. All that control had gone, been handed over to Coby and her daughter. So she had no choice but to suck it up and run with it. Whatever
it
was.

‘I’ll do my best to make sure there’s no mess, Angie,’ Ben said, slowly looking back up, but not directly at her. Instead he allowed his gaze to wander around the almost-deserted clubhouse. When it was like this, with most of the members out at work, or doing whatever else it was they did all day, the place felt almost calm. A kind of peace hung over it, strange though that may sound. Maybe only Ben could really explain what he meant by that, but it did feel calm. A nice place to hang out, that’s how it felt, right now. What it all felt like later when the guys were back and the clubhouse was filled with noise and women and loud, ear-splitting music, that was a completely different matter. And Ben had seen both sides, on countless occasions.

‘I’d really appreciate that, Ben.’

Angie’s voice pulled him back to reality, and he slowly turned his head to look at her, smiling slightly. ‘Like I said, I’ll try my best.’ But he could tell even she wasn’t convinced that the situation with Mia could stay free of any complications. Things rarely did around here.

‘Anyway,’ Angie sighed, pulling her hair back into a loose pony tail. ‘I’d better get back to the cleaning. Mia’s just over there, by the way. And thanks again, Ben.’

‘It’s what I’m here for.’

‘To sort out all our unholy messes?’ Angie asked, an almost wry smile on her face.

Ben returned the smile, but didn’t reply. He just watched her retreat back into the kitchen before he turned to look over at the woman he was being asked to help. She had her back to him as she checked out photographs of Lone Riders, past and present, that graced the walls of the clubhouse. So all he could see was a mane of dark curls and long legs encased in figure-hugging leather pants, her arms – from what he could see – decorated with a myriad of colorful tattoos.

Keeping his hands in his pockets he slowly approached her, not wanting to startle her. But there was a tiny part of him that couldn’t help feeling wary about this woman. He just didn’t know why. But it was a feeling that seemed to grow stronger the closer to her he got. And then she turned around, and he felt something shift inside him, like someone had just nudged his insides slightly out of kilter. She had the most beautiful deep, dark eyes, almost coal-black, and intensely heavy, as though the weight of the world was dragging her down. And Ben could also detect that hardness he was familiar with where the women of this club were concerned. Was that something that was bred into them, the women who were born into this lifestyle? That cold, hard, defensive shield that seemed to surround all of them?

‘Mia?’ He was asking a purely rhetorical question, of course, because it was obvious who she was.

She nodded, the expression on her face barely registering a change as she stared him down. Jesus! This one was one tough lady! But then, given what he’d been told about her circumstances, Ben assumed she knew no other way to be. ‘And you are…?’ She trailed off, keeping her eyes on him as she waited for his answer.

‘Ben. Ben Salter. I’m the club’s lawyer.’

She continued to stare at him, almost as if she was trying to work out just what kind of a man he was. And whether or not she could trust him. ‘Yeah. Charlie mentioned you.’

Finally breaking the stare, she turned her attention back to the photographs on the wall, leaving Ben to let out a small, and hopefully inaudible sigh of something he could only describe as relief. And then he remembered just why he was there. He needed to talk to her. Needed to get this – whatever it was – moving. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could get it over with, because that bad feeling he’d experienced before, it wasn’t going anywhere.

‘We need to have a chat, Mia,’ Ben said quietly. ‘Just a quick one, then I promise you, you’ll never have to see me again.’

She turned back around to face him, smiling only slightly, but the difference it made to her pretty features was undeniable. Those dark eyes of hers were still deep and intense – Ben had a feeling that was never going to change – but that one small smile had made her whole face light up, turning her from pretty to beautiful with her long dark hair, full lips and high cheekbones that were prominent without being too obvious. Striking was how Ben would describe her. The kind of woman you couldn’t ignore.

‘Okay.’ She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, hunching her shoulders up slightly, which gave her an almost vulnerable edge Ben was quite certain she’d never intended to show. ‘It’s just that, I don’t feel much like talking right now. Hasn’t Charlie told you everything you need to know?’

‘I need
you
to tell me, Mia. If I’m going to help you…’ He stopped mid-sentence, not missing the immediate change in her body language – the defensive barriers snapping right up around her the second he’d uttered the word “help”. Okay. She was stubborn. Someone who didn’t like to appear weak. Ben had seen it all before over the years. He knew the signs. ‘Look, I…’ He pushed a hand through his hair, briefly lowering his gaze before raising his head, their eyes meeting. ‘It’s just a chat. To let me hear, from you, what’s happening. That’s all it is. And then, together, we can decide what to do next. You’re in control of this situation, Mia, I promise you that.’

‘Am I?’

He wasn’t entirely sure she’d meant to say that out loud, because she immediately looked away the second the words were out, her shoulders hunching right up again. ‘Come on. Let’s sit down.’

He slowly lowered himself on to the couch, watching as she sat down opposite him, the large coffee table between them offering the divide he guessed she needed. But at least her body language was becoming more receptive.

‘I just want him out of my life,’ Mia began. ‘And right now, I’m not sure that’s a possibility.’

Those dark eyes of hers were staring him down again, almost as though they were daring him to achieve the impossible. Okay. He’d take the dare. He was never one to shirk a challenge, he never had been.

‘Nothing’s impossible,’ Ben said, matching her stare.

‘How long have you worked for the club?’ she asked, leaning forward, clasping her hands between her knees.

Ben matched her stance, their eyes still locked together. ‘Long enough to know how to handle any situation it can throw at me. I’m no stranger to this environment.’

She laughed, a small almost cynical laugh. She didn’t believe him? Hey! Another challenge. He was beginning to get into this now.

‘What did he do to you, Mia?’ The words had slipped out before he’d had a chance to think about saying them out loud, something he really
should
have thought about, because those barriers had shot right back up again, the hardness returning, clouding her beautiful face. ‘What did he do to you?’ His voice was little more than a whisper as he narrowed his eyes, looking at her more closely now; at the small scar just above her left cheekbone, the yellowing bruise on the side of her neck. And the knuckles on her right hand were bruised and cut, giving him the feeling she knew how to fight back.

She held his gaze for a few, long seconds, the air heavy with an atmosphere Ben couldn’t describe. But it felt weighted with something that made the wariness he was experiencing triple in intensity.

‘Just get him out of my life,’ she said coldly, standing up and walking away without a backward glance.