Page 1 of Elling & Jackie

Chapter 1

Raindrops bounced inthe puddles along the curb. Elling Halvorsen stood on the sidewalk under the awning of the Colman Hotel. The downpour had come out of nowhere which often happened in Portland, Oregon.

Waiting out the rain, he leaned against the alcove to the left of the front door. He sent a text to Brage, the V.P. of Slag Motorcycle Club, letting him know the Federal Agent he followed from the clubhouse had checked into a room.

A group of six people, couples, walked past him under their umbrellas, passing the hotel. At ten o'clock at night, he highly doubted if there would be a rush of people checking into hotel rooms. They were probably going out for a night on the town.

He looked up, checking out the tall, brick building. It came as no surprise the Federal Agent had enough money at his disposal to stay at one of the more high-class hotels in the area. Agent Vance Campbell spent his days harassing Slag members, trying to get them to rat each other out.

Elling stuck his head out from under the awning and looked up at the dark sky. A few drops of rain peppered his face.

Leaning back against the wall, he sighed in impatience. The club needed to get another shipment up to the Seattle Chapter and on the cargo ship set for Norway in four weeks. That wouldn't happen if Agent Campbell continued to dog their every step. For one man, he seemed to hit enough hot spots that enabled him to come face-to-face with Slag members.

Sticking his arm out over the sidewalk, he raised the palm of his hand. The rain had slowed to a few sprinkles.

He walked to his Harley, having parked in the fifteen-minute, drop-off spot in front of the doors to the hotel. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he swept his arm over the seat, getting most of the wetness off. There was nothing he hated more than a wet-ass ride back to the clubhouse.

He put on his helmet, slipped on his gloves, turned the key, and pushed the starter.

Nothing happened.

The familiar vibration underneath him never came.

There was still gas in the tank. He never let it get below a half.

He flipped his headlight on. The beam of light lit up the car parked in front of him. The problem wasn't his battery.

God damn. He was getting too old to pop start a bike.

A woman walked out of the hotel, holding the door open, and used a key at the bottom of the frame to lock one side of the double doors. He took in the curve of her ass as she balanced on her heels. The slim black skirt hit her right above the knees.

He blew out his breath. She was a pretty woman. Young, firm, and wore her long, rich brown hair behind her shoulders. The ends almost hit her waist.

Struggling with the key, her ass bounced up and down with her movements as she fought to turn the lock.

The remaining closed door visibly clicked into place. She stood, sliding the keyring over her finger and brushed her hands off.

He never gave classy women his time in public. Women like her liked bikers in private and stuck up their nose in a crowd.

She looked up and down the street before gazing at him. "Coming in?"

"Not tonight." He remained sitting.

She wasn't asking, she was inquiring. He'd learned the difference as a boy.

Her white silky-looking buttoned shirt covered all of her and fit like a glove, showing the outline of breasts that were a little too big for the size of her body. Just the way he liked them.

She stayed in the open doorway. "If you're not a guest, I’m going to have to ask you to park in one of the public spots along the street. The one in front of the hotel is reserved for paying guests at the Colman Hotel."

He tried to start his Harley again. Traffic flowed one way on the street. One way at an incline. Getting off and pushing his motorcycle to pop start it wasn't something he planned to do.

He scratched his jaw through his beard. "Bike won't start. I'd like to give it a few more minutes to dry out before I try again."

She gazed everywhere but at him. "It's late. You can take another fifteen minutes, but then I'll have to insist you at least move your Harley out of the blue lines."

"Kind of you." He dipped his chin.

She stepped inside and let the glass door shut behind her. Blocked from seeing her, he damned the night for turning out differently than he'd hoped. He should be back at the clubhouse, enjoying one of the women and doing his part in finishing a bottle of Jack with the other Slag members.

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