Page 18 of Dodge

I cleared my throat. “A margarita sounds great, and thanks for talking up the restaurant. I have a long way to go, which is why I’m here. I need your help if that offer is still on the table.”

Betsey scooted a similar stool close to me and plopped her rounded ass on it. “I’m glad to help, darlin’, as long as it’s in my power to do so. Whatcha need?”

I explained my situation of getting the restaurant furniture from Asheville to here. Then I found myself going a step further and telling her how I came to Bryson City in the first place. Why the hell I started regurgitating my life’s story to this stranger I’d known for a whole twenty minutes was beyond my understanding, but I shared more with Betsey than I had anyone in a very long time.

She stopped talking and her face grew serious as she listened, occasionally making a “hmm”of understanding punctuated by a “Lord have mercy.” The only break was when a pretty pregnant brunette came behind the bar and Betsey smiled at her. This must be Katrina, as two margaritas appeared shortly after.

“That’s some story,” Betsey remarked as she lifted the ice concoction to her red lips and took a generous sip. “I can’t stand cheaters. Sure, my boys aren’t monks, and we have some women who come to the Lair for the sole purpose of partying with them, but once they claim an old lady, my boys better keep it straight.”

“Lair?”

Betsey waved a hand toward the front of the building and twiddled her long red nails. “It’s the Dragon Runners’ private clubhouse and my home. The entrance is behind that gate across the main road and up the mountain. Invitation only. My husband, Brick, is up there right now, probably eating stuff he shouldn’t and telling stories about old Tail rides. I tell you that man is stubborn as hell. I’ve been trying to get him to cut back on his salt, but he just keeps piling it on. Even bought some of that salt substitute, but he won’t use it. I swear he’s pickier than my grandkids.”

“Tail?” I sipped my own margarita. Something she said struck a note in me.Dragon Runners? Where have I heard that before?Then the lime flavor of a superb drink burst on my tongue and distracted me. “Oh, wow! This is good.”

The woman named Katrina blushed at my praise and muttered a shy “Thanks.” She was tiny compared to her gargantuan husband. I watched her approach the frowning man and set a large white mug in front of him. He didn’t move as she poured coffee into it, but after she set the pot down, Mute reached out a huge paw and tenderly cupped his wife’s cheek. His expression morphed from scary biker dude to one of such love and devotion of a depth I’d never seen before. Katrina blossomed under his touch, and her true beauty shone through. I forgot all about dragons and simply watched. It was breathtaking.

I’d grown up in a world where showing any emotions was forbidden. Mom had drilled etiquette and appearances into me from the cradle. My brain roiled a bit as I tried to recall the last time anyone looked at me with any sort of love or care. Chase might have at one time, but that dream shattered the moment I saw him fucking another woman.

Dodge’s face swam up behind my eyes. The one who got away had shown me, a total stranger, more concern that my blood family or supposed boyfriend. How would it feel to be touched like that by him?

Betsey’s voice bored into my thoughts and brought me back to the present. “The Tail of the Dragon. It’s the nickname for a piece of Highway 129 that has a long history with this club. Started out as a way for the Cherokee Nation to avoid relocation and the Trail of Tears. Then it became a way for moonshiners to run between the states and avoid the revenuers. That’s part of club history as well. Now the Tail is more of a tourist attraction and a rite of passage for our club members. Ever ridden on a motorcycle?”

My mind flashed to the single experience I’d had with Dodge. I hadn’t included that encounter when I was dumping my life’s drama on Betsey. “Once. A… friend gave me a ride home on the back of his bike. I thought it was really cool.”

Her eyes softened. “It’s a big deal for a real biker to allow someone to ride with him. Means he’s got respect for you. Usually only old ladies get that honor, so your friend must think a lot of you.”

“I doubt I’m gonna see him again. He was a nice guy, but I can safely say he’s the one who got away.” Those repeated words rang in my head.

Betsey’s nails clicked as she tapped two of them against the sweating glass. “Fate has a way of turning things. Who knows? You might run into him again.”

In retrospect, I should have paid attention to that buzz. The feeling of seeing a car crash happen or a giant tree topple over or an engulfing wave rush up the beach. Slow disasters that once they start, there’s nothing you can do to stop them, and all that’s left is to ride it out.

The older woman’s eyes glanced behind me and lit up. “I know exactly who can help you get your stuff. He’s between shows and has the big trailer we use for transporting cars.” She lifted her hand and waved to someone. “Hey, Dodge! Come over here.”

* * *

Dodge enteredthe loud bar in a bad mood and was prepared to stay that way. He let out a sigh as the noise washed over him. Music. Laughter. Happy people. Good times. He should probably stop complaining about his circumstances and appreciate what he had going for himself. A job he loved and a club that had his back no matter what. Mallory had that at one time, but when she left him, she left the club too. If she ever became his old lady again, she’d be accepted back only because of him, but he doubted she’d be greeted with a warm welcome. The hurt of her leaving him in the manner she did still burned in his gut. It came back time after time as she’d drifted in and out of his life over the years, and he didn’t think he’d ever get over it.

No matter. He was content with his life, if not completely happy. Perhaps that was enough.

The urge for a cigarette hit him, but he tamped it down. He gave up smoking a long time ago, but something about the bar and the atmosphere tonight brought out those cravings. He didn’t know why his tension suddenly ramped up. This was the River’s Edge, a home away from home. Most people here knew him, and normally he was comfortable walking in the door, but something didn’t sit right tonight. Anxiety had his nerves firing on alert, and his fingers were twitchy. He’d had this feeling before of an impending fiasco and had no control to stop it.

It bothered him. A lot.

Probably my houseguest. He glanced around the bar, taking in his friends and club brothers. Mute was in his usual spot. Stud sang into a mic on the stage with his band. Forge danced on the wood floor with several women around him. Table might be in the back room shooting pool, but his wife, Lori, was pregnant again, and they spent more time at home rather than the clubhouse.

Dodge twisted his head to stretch the tight tendons. He just needed to relax and unwind. Yeah, that was it. Just relax and—

“Hey, Dodge! Come over here.”

He heard Betsey’s summons and saw her waving hands. A white noise started in his ears, drowning out all other sound. Every nerve and cell of his body focused on the woman whose back was to him. A head of tight-curling long black ringlets and an ass that could make a man weep with gratitude.

No. Not here. Not now.

She turned and her laser eyes hit him with enough force he had to step back. Fauna. The woman who haunted his dreams and lived in his fantasy world. The woman in his thoughts while another one slept in his bed. The woman he’d put into the category of “the one who got away” and was supposed to be a fond memory.

Shit! What the fuck is she doing here?

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