BRASH: A Spartan Riders Novel, Page 2

  “Oh shit, bro,” Moose said with wide eyes, “that sounds like some Poltergeist stuff. Prez, man, count me out. I can’t even think about buying one of those houses with that kind of bad ju-ju in the neighborhood.”

  Blake just laughed. “Do you realize how many bodies are buried all over the world? Hell, you probably have one in your backyard right now.”

  Moose shook his head, all serious. “Don’t even joke about shit like that.”

  Taco laughed along with his brothers. See, this was why he loved being a Spartan. Those fuckers knew how to lighten a mood. How many people could stand over a dead body they were about to dispose of and toss around jokes and shoot the shit like it was just another normal day?

  Taco needed that kind of levity in his life right now. Even though he tried to keep it upbeat around his friends, inside he’d been a sour bastard for way too long. It was those quiet times it snuck up on him. No matter what he tried or how many bitches he screwed, he still thought of Bambi.

  She was tattooed on his brain like the Spartan rocker was tattooed on his back. Some days he wondered if it might be just as permanent too. He’d determined it must be the lack of closure that kept her on his mind. After all the time they’d spent together, learning one another and connecting in a way Taco had never done with any other woman before or after, finding her apartment cleared out, no note, no nothin’ had screwed with his head. It was a slap in the face, being left behind like that, as if he wasn’t even worth a goodbye.

  By all rights, he should have erased her from his memory and went on his merry way, picking up where he’d left off with the bunnies and other random tail he frequented. But it’d been harder to climb back on that horse than he’d anticipated. In truth, he’d only fucked two other girls since Bambi, and considering it’d been a year since she left was ludicrous.

  If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect he was suffering from some kind of heartbreak, but Taco didn’t do romance and love and shit.

  But he might have for her.

  Guess the world would never know.

  “All right,” Country announced, rubbing his hands together like he was eager to get them dirty. “Let’s get started before the sun says hello and we get tossed in the slammer.”

  “I second that,” Taco said. “Just imagine the charges they could put against us.”

  “Disposing of evidence, desecrating a body, illegal dumping…” Moose offered.

  “Murder,” Blake added helpfully. “Look, we need to move like Country said. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

  “I third that,” Moose grunted. “I don’t need or want a rap-sheet, m’kay? I want to do some international travel one day, and felonies don’t go well with travel plans.”

  “International?” Country scoffed as he got into position over Kellerman’s legs and squatted. “Taco, you got the head.”

  Taco’s upper lip curled as he stepped up. Thank God they’d brought him in on a tarp. If he’d had to actually touch that thing… Yeah, he could already feel the chunks climbing up his throat. The damn thing looked so fragile anyway. It’d probably just break off in bits in his hands.

  Wow, yeah, he did not need that kind of visual floating around in his headspace this early in the damn morning.

  Gathering the tarp, he lifted his end of the body.

  Country was still yapping, going on about how much better the South was than foreign lands, as if he wasn’t handling rotting flesh and bones and committing about twenty different criminal acts. “Alls I’m sayin’ is it’s a waste of perfectly good time and money when you have so much shit to see here at home.”

  “Like what?” Moose challenged. “The world’s biggest ball of twine? Paris, Rome, Italy…now that’s where it’s at.” He was following behind them as they carried the body out to the dig site.

  “Better than ancient ruins that are, wait for it…ancient,” Country rebutted. “What’s so special about old stones and polluted waterways?”

  “That’s history, bro. It’s beautiful, for one, and two, if you don’t learn from it, it’s bound to repeat itself. Didn’t they teach you that in Sunday school?”

  “Probably,” Country said with a shrug that threw off the balance of the body they were carrying. Kellerman’s deteriorated foot flopped off the side of the tarp, tattered skin dangling.

  “Dude, fucking sick,” Taco groused.

  “Yeah, I’m not touching that,” Country agreed with a ripe scowl. He did a little jerking motion on his end, trying, Taco guessed, to get the foot back onto the tarp, but all it did was jostle the whole damn body and send bits of debris Taco didn’t want to even try to guess at flying into the air.

  “Quit dicking around,” Taco snapped. “You’re getting pieces of him all over the place. Not to mention, I don’t need to be breathing that shit in.”

  Moose snapped his fingers at Tanner. “Grab that broom over there and sweep that shit up. Bring it over when you’re done.”

  “Anyway,” Country drawled, giving Taco a sharply annoyed look that told him to shut his mouth and respect his elders, “I spent a lot of time picking up chicks, so I probably missed that lesson.”

  Moose belted out one of his standard baritone laughs. “You spent your youth honing your flirting skills and you’re telling me I’m wasting my time wanting to see the world? Brother, have you seen European females?”

  Blake was already in the pit operating the backhoe. The hole he’d dug was deep, a dark gouge in the earth. Country and Taco hauled the body over, stopping at the mouth of the hole, and when Blake gave the signal, they tossed Kellerman inside. Tanner joined them a moment later with a dustpan and emptied the bits he’d collected into it, too.

  It was the work of a few minutes for Blake to fill the grave back in, then he tamped down the dirt and it was done. Frank Kellerman had been laid to rest, and only the five of them would ever know what truly happened to the ex-FBI agent.

  After Blake returned the equipment to its original spot and they regrouped at the front where they’d each parked their respective mode of transportation, Country asked, “Anyone up for some breakfast? I’m starving.”

  Taco shook his head in disbelief. “Man, how can you even think of food at a time like this?” Every time he blinked, Taco saw Kellerman on that floor or in that hole. His hands felt dirty, contaminated.

  “What?” Country glanced at each of them. “A man’s gotta eat.”

  “A man’s gotta shower,” Taco said empathically.

  Blake nodded in agreement. “A shower is definitely calling my name. Rain check on the food,” he told Country.

  “Spoil sports,” Country grumbled as he climbed onto the back of his bike. “And I was going to pay, too, but y’all can forget it now.”

  “Sorry, bro,” Moose said. “Next meal’s on me, ‘kay.”

  Country lifted his chin and bumped Moose’s fists, then he saluted the rest of them before driving off. The man was incorrigible, as his grandmother used to say.

  Taco was strapping on his helmet when Quick approached him. “Hey, how’s it going? You [bs1]seem a little distant this morning.”

  “Tends to be the case when you bury a body first thing in the morning, Prez.”

  Quick studied him for a moment, something he’d been doing for…well, a year now. He could see that Taco was bothered, so he asked after him from time to time. Taco appreciated the check-ins. “Anytime you wanna talk…”

  “Yeah, I know where to find you,” Taco said, repeating the words Quick had told him time and again.

  Clapping him on the shoulder, Quick stalked off to talk to Moose and Tanner. Taco didn’t hang around. He was eager to get back home, grab that shower, and see if the honey he’d left in his bed was up for a little action.

  Lord knew he needed the distraction.

  THREE

  Bambi was still thinking about the date last night. Steve had been a true gentleman, pulling out chairs and opening doors for her. He treated her to a wonderful dinner
of caprese chicken and pasta with the most fantastic garlic bread she’d ever tasted—mouthwatering, all of it. Then he’d driven her home, walked her to the door, and instead of trying to kiss her, he simply kissed the back of her hand and promised to call.

  She liked him, she really did. Sure, it lacked the fire and explosions she was looking for, but was that really so important? Steve was nice and he seemed…safe, and safe was what she’d been looking for. Right?

  Checking her shopping list again, Bambi searched for where she’d left off. Mommy brain was still in full effect. Shouldn’t she be over that by now? Alas, despite the constant struggle to get things done, she was doing them.

  Today was yet another grocery shopping day. She hated them. From the morning routine of getting Beau fed and presentable to doing the same for herself, she was exhausted. The prospect of going home and lugging all that food inside and putting it away was daunting. Yet she did it—every week. Gone were the days of eating takeout every night and never worrying about her hips paying for it later. Ugh.

  But she’d been good lately, so tonight she planned to treat herself to a cake. Carrot cake sounded good, she thought as she scanned the bakery’s selections. Something nice and fattening, sweet, but that she could still lie to herself and say she was getting some vegetables in her diet. She picked one and smiled over the tiny icing carrots. She already knew which side of the cake she would cut into first.

  She made her way around the store, Beau cradled in his sling against her chest so he could eat without creating a fuss for the fuddy-duddies who thought a woman should be secluded for performing the most natural part of life.

  She’d stopped by the women’s clothing department to see what was new in stock when she heard someone calling her name.

  “I knew that was you.”

  Bambi silently cursed as she turned away just enough to make sure everything was covered and decent. Beau was dozing off again, which was a small blessing. Maybe her unwelcomed guest wouldn’t notice the ten-pound human strapped to her torso.

  “Gabby, hey,” Bambi said with false enthusiasm. “What are you doing here?”

  Gabby was beaming, her stick straight hair flat ironed to within an inch of its life, not a piece of frizz in sight, and those giant boobs leading the way. She was a real knock out, a total pin-up. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Quick had fallen for her.

  “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood. Ash and I were getting ice cream at that new shop just off the highway? Anyway, I remembered we needed to pick up something for dinner and this was convenient.” Gabby’s eyes scanned over her form. “You look great,” she said, her smile a little twitchy.

  She’d noticed the baby, just as Bambi had noticed Ash standing behind a shopping cart with a car seat perched in the front and the two prospects lingering a few feet away. They had their eyes on her, which made her wildly uncomfortable.

  Playing it cool and hoping Gabby didn’t notice the sweat breaking out on her forehead, Bambi said, “Thanks. So you do!”

  Gabby looked to be several months pregnant again, but the baby bump had yet to overtake her boobs, making it hard to tell how far along she was.

  “Oh, thanks. Only a couple months left now, which is such a relief. When it’s not the baby,”—she thumbed over her shoulder at her own baby—“it’s the backaches keeping me up at night.” Her eyes roamed over Bambi, lingering on Beau. “But I guess you know all about that. Boy or girl?”

  Bambi bit her lip. “Um, boy.”

  “Awwww,” Gabby cooed, leaning in to try and catch a peek of him. “He’s so sweet. How old?”

  “Uh, three months.” Bambi was growing more paranoid by the second. She wanted desperately to get the hell out of there. The way the prospects were watching them made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  “Well, he looks just like you,” Gabby commented. “Wow, though. You really do look great. I mean, I didn’t even know you were pregnant!”

  In a panic, Bambi said the first thing that popped out of her mouth. “He’s not mine.” Her eyes widened, unable to believe she’d just disowned her own kid, as if she was ashamed of him. She needed to fix this. “I mean, I’m watching him for a friend.” Well, she was digging herself a hole wasn’t she.

  “Oh, well lucky you getting to spend time with such a handsome little guy. I should give you my number. Maybe you can watch my little one. Lord knows once this kid pops out, I’m going to have my hands full,” Gabby said with a wink and another bright smile.

  Bambi couldn’t tell if she genuinely believed the lie or if she was just playing along. The last thing she wanted was for the woman to run back to the clubhouse and tell Quick, who would then tell Curtis, that she had a baby. It wouldn’t take a lot of guesswork to figure out the timeline, and then Curtis would be breaking down her door.

  “Yeah, for sure,” she replied as she started to push the cart slowly away, praying the offer of giving her her number would be forgotten. “Well, I’d better get going. I still have so much left to do tonight,” she said, hoping she wasn’t coming off rude or overly nervous. “It was nice running into you though.”

  “You too,” Gabby said sweetly.

  Bambi fully expected her to watch her leave, knowing she was lying through her teeth, but she didn’t look back to confirm. But she wasn’t perfect, and she couldn’t help glancing over that the prospects as she passed through the racks.

  They were watching her like a hawk.

  Shit.

  Bambi picked up her pace and hit the self-checkout line, practically throwing her crap into bags. She needed to get out of there and get home where she fully planned to eat that entire cake and pretend that her quiet life was not about to implode.

  ***

  “So she has a baby?” Ginger asked, and Gabby nodded emphatically. “But she said it wasn’t hers?”

  “That’s what she claims, but I’m telling you, that boy looked just like her. Actually, I want to say he looks a lot like someone else we know, too, but I’m not sure I want to jump that far just yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Ginger asked, trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

  When Gabby had spilled the beans about her run-in with Bambi, Ginger had been all ears, ready for some juicy gossip. There had been a lot of drama surrounding that girl when she’d been in town. She’d been obsessed with Country, and then she’d gotten into it with his current girlfriend, Talia, just before being outed as an undercover agent for the FBI. Her antics around the club—not so much her lies, as Talia had been undercover at the time, too—had been what had gotten her booted from the premises. After that, no one really knew what happened to her.

  “Well, I don’t have any way to prove it, but I swear, he reminds me of Taco. Just something about his coloring and the shape of his features…” She shook her head, staring off over her cup of tea.

  Ginger laughed. “Well, I highly doubt that. I mean, Taco is a manwhore, but I don’t think he’d be too quick to knock boots with crazy. Especially someone like Bambi, and especially after Country expressly forbid her to return to the clubhouse unless he gave the green light. Which he hasn’t, so that effectively makes her untouchable.” She knocked back the rest of her venti latte and started in on the double chocolate brownie. “Besides, it’s been what, a year?”

  Gabby flattened her palm on the table and leaned in, whispering, “Yes, which makes it perfect. Nine months, and she said the baby is three months. Added up that makes one year. It fits.”

  “But why Taco? That just seems…I don’t know, unlikely, if you ask me.”

  “Any more unlikely than you and Repo hooking up?” Gabby’s eyes glittered with amusement.

  Ginger gaped at her. “We are a perfect match, I will have you know. Just splendid.”

  “Ha! You two were ready to kill each other. I’m surprised you still haven’t.”

  Pursing her lips and giving her friend a mock scowl, Ginger said, “We have a very complicated relationship. I wo
uldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Must be some good sex,” Gabby said with a little wink.

  Ginger just raised her eyebrows and grinned as she continued eating her brownie. A year ago, she and Gabby hadn’t been friends exactly, since she’d always cared a bit more about her husband, Blake, more than she should. But when Garrick started gunning for her while at the same time the club was facing upheaval from outside and inside sources, Ginger and Gabby had become unlikely allies and subsequent friends.

  Now the two made a point to meet up at least one day each week to catch each other up on gossip around town and blow off some steam as ol’ ladies. Sometimes, Talia even joined in, but her job tended to pull her away more often than not, leaving just the two of them.

  “Ugh, this kid is going to kill me. I swear he knows where every one of my ribs are and is determined to jamb his toes between each of them.”

  Ginger didn’t comment, instead offering a pained smile.

  “How is the baby making going?” Gabby asked softly, looking as if she regretted her words. Sometimes, Ginger knew Gabby wasn’t sure if it was okay to share her fortunes when she was struggling to find her own. Ginger didn’t want her friend to feel like she couldn’t share her life, but she also couldn’t deny that it stung like hell see her have what she wanted so badly for herself.

  “Nothing yet, but we’re still trying.”

  “Have you thought any more about going to that doctor I told you about?” A month ago, Gabby had given Ginger the name of a renowned fertility doctor, hoping he could offer some answers.

  “Not yet. Garrick and I decided to give it one more month. If nothing happens by then, I’ll make the call.”

  They picked at their snacks after that, the solemnity of the situation falling over them like a pall.

  “So have you heard anything more about what they plan to do with Tanner?” Ginger asked Gabby, shifting gears to a safer topic.

  Last year, they’d gotten word that Moose’s nephew was a possible rat, the leak they’d been looking for. Word had it that he had been feeding sensitive information to former FBI agent Frank Kellerman, who had in turn been feeding it to the cartel and was now missing and presumed dead.