Page 43 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
"I don't think so, but bad might be relative,” Mitch says also sitting.
“The thing is,” Wes interrupts. “Remember when we were back at the grocery store and people kept staring at us?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Well, only part of it was because of my handsomeness and natural charm.” I catch Charlie's eye roll as his brother continues. “Most of it is because we don’t have the best reputation in town."
Now, I'm extremely concerned. “Why? What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Wes rushes to assure me. “It’s just rumors and such. You know, we’re big guys, with not the friendliest of faces and we ride bikes routinely on the open road. So some might think we’re part of a biker gang.”
I frown. “Are you?”
“Does it look like we have any time to be in a gang?’ Mitch points out but his sarcasm is softened with a teasing smile. “We’re just telling you because we think you deserve to know. But we don’t ride around robbing people or causing mayhem, except for maybe Wes.”
“Hey," Wes protests.
“Our father used to be a biker when he was young. We got into bikes when we were teenagers but never rode much until recently because our mother forbade it. Now, we're just making up for lo st time. Apart from that we’re just regular guys. But it’s a small, conservative town and in those situations when they see big guys with bikes, it’s easy to jump to that conclusion."
"Especially given what happened at Cockrey's years ago." Wes points out and Mitch and Charlie both shoot him a glare. I guess he wasn't supposed to mention that.
"What? I thought we were telling her everything."
"What happened at Cockrey's?" I ask and as Charlie continues glaring at Wes, Mitch answers my question.
"Years ago," he starts. "This was a few weeks after Wes returned from service. The day after my mother's funeral.We'd gone to the bar to have a drink and some idiots were causing trouble."
"Idiots from a legit biker gang," Wes points out and Mitch once more glares him into silence.
"They were drunk assholes shooting the shit. And then they saw us ride in on our bikes, and saw that we were the biggest guys in the bar, and mistook us for a rival gang. Thought they would make a name for themselves by taking us down. So they started poking at us. And poking. And poking."
"We should have ignored them," Wes says. "But as Mitch said, our mom just died. We were all pretty devastated and looking to work off some steam. So I mouthed off to them in return. That probably wasn't the smartest idea. There were twelve of them and only three of us and quite a few of them had been to jail. The best thing to do in that situation would have been to leave."
"But we were spoiling for a fight," Mitch says. "And they gave us one."
"So what happened?" I ask, almost not wanting to hear this next part but curious regardless.
Mitch shrugs. "About what you'd expect. A fight breaks out. We kick all their asses. I almost take things too far with their leader and land him in the hospital. But no one died, and after a night spent in the police station to cool off, we were set free. By that time, the reputation about us being in a biker gang had swept through town and it stuck."
“I see,” I say.
“So," Charlie speaks up, finally eyeing me. “How do you feel about that?”
“How do I feel?” Honestly, I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand, I’ve always seen bikers as inherently dangerous,the exact type of men my ex would use to enforce his dastardly deeds.
It’s hard to imagine the brothers as those types of men.
But on the other hand, I’ve so far had a pretty shitty track record when it comes to picking men.
When Keegan and I started dating, I didn’t know Keegan was into illegal activity. I never asked where his money came from, not wanting him to think that I was into him for his wealth. And even when I saw his shiftiness around the police, I thought he was just a private businessman who had a bad history with the cops.
And after two years, when I deduced from conversation that he was opening a laundromat to clean his money, I thought he was involved in the kind of illegal stuff that was relatively mundane, like tax evasion.
It wasn’t till much later, when I was pregnant with Maddie, and he started having his boys over to our home, that I realized what he really was. A small but significant part of the illegal arms trade in Chicago.
By that point, it was already too late.
What if I’m doing it again? What if I’m somehow endangering my girls by trusting the wrong men?
