Page 26 of Dizzy

Heavy’s a chipper. I don’t understand how a man can smoke one here and there and not get addicted, but he is a man of exceptional will. He flicks his lighter and inhales deep. I still love the smell.

I lean next to him, kick the heel of my boot up on the brick. We stand a while in silence, admiring the woods with the leaves all turned colors.

We’ve got ourselves a slice of heaven out here. The woods, the fields across the highway, the foothills rising in the distance. Room to spread out. Our grandfathers did well when they pooled their money and bought this acreage after the war.

After a minute or two, Heavy breaks the silence. “We have a problem.”

I exhale. “Yeah. I know.”

“If she was helping Chaos, she knows things. Even if she wasn’t, she can place him here. She’s a material witness. Either way, she can be used to bring down this club.”

“She’s what? Twenty?”

“She’s eighteen. We ran her information.”

Shit. That’s young. Still. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Maybe. She’s still a liability.” I tense. Heavy claps a paw on my shoulder. “Relax. I’m stating facts. You’ve made yourself clear. She’s a risk I guess we’re gonna take.”

“I don’t think she’s in on it. Look at her. She’s down on her luck.”

“Maybe. But we need to ameliorate the risk.”

“You’re gonna need to speak plain English, my brother.”

Heavy went away to college. That’s where he came up with the plan that’s changing our way of life. He was always wicked smart, but when he came back from Massachusetts, he stopped bothering to hide it.

“We can keep going down this road,” he says. “Interrogate her. Put the fear of God in her. Dig up information on her family. Hold that over her head. Send her on her way. We can use the stick.”

I don’t care for that.

“Or we can use the carrot. No offense, but your woman’s stick thin, and she’s clearly been roughing it. The weather’s turning. She gets along with the other sweetbutts. Maybe we use the carrot. The clubhouse could use a house mouse.”

She’s not staying here with Jed and a bunch of horny prospects.

Heavy glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You could take her home with you. Place could use a woman’s touch.”

It could. And my cock definitely perks up at the thought of her bent over the sink, elbow-deep in suds.

But I been down that road. Domesticity. It’s all great—mince-meat pie coolin’ on the counter, pussy on tap—until your credit cards are maxed out and your woman’s talkin’ aboutself-actualizationall the time like you did something wrong.

Besides, Fay-Lee’s too young. The boys would run roughshod over her. Especially if they’re gonna be around full time for a while.

I don’t need to invite conflict into my home. It’s peaceful now.

“If you don’t like that plan, we could find somewhere else. Grinder maybe. Or Harper probably wouldn’t mind some help around the house.”

Grinder would perv on her, and I’ve seen Harper Ruth with the sweetbutts. Fay-Lee’s got spunk, but Harper’s a maneater. People eater. Whatever.

“I can’t lock her in a room with the boys around. And I gotta work.” But maybe I could talk to her. Make her see it’s a win-win.

“If this plays out the way I intend, it won’t be that kind of thing.” Heavy’s asking me to trust him. Trust that wily brain of his.

“What’s the end game? She can’t stay forever.” My gut sours. I probably need to eat.

“We’ll make friends. She’s a friendly girl. We’ll find out if she knows anything. Who knows? Maybe we can hook her up with a job at The White Van. She fits in.”

Over my dead body. “She ain’t dancin’.”

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