Treasure
Redeye

The rally in Florida was a welcome relief for Rori. She didn’t have the heart to paint over the designs she had on her motorcycle, but she used refrigerator magnets to cover them up. The Old Lady at the house she stayed at was a hairdresser and gave her a complete makeover. Her long red hair got trimmed back into a layered cut to her shoulders, then dyed black with a hint of blue. It still wasn’t enough to fool her Mom or her friends, but her distinctive hair wouldn’t stick out as before.

She spent two days with her Mom, and both cried when she had to go. Donna feared for her safety and wanted her close. She knew from Roadkill and Mongo that this was the best way for her to stay safe, though. The Club wasn’t able to find out much about the Adirondacks group. Ashley and her father did not return to Orlando after Rori fled from their compound, and neither side wanted the police involved.

The next ten months flew by like a blur for Rori. She never got to return to the Orlando or Manchester chapters, but she made new friends in Fort Worth, Kansas City, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Sacramento, and now Seattle, where she was staying with the local chapter in Renton. The Club decided it was best if she didn’t stay in one place for more than three months, and if people asked around for her, they would move her immediately. Things had calmed down, and she had been with Renton chapter for over two months.

She had seen her mother twice, once at the rally in Florida the last November and again in May when she flew to Kansas City, and it wasn’t enough. Her life was a whirlwind of art, clubs, and fighting, all tempered by the need to remain out of sight. Only on Club property or the private property of patched members could she be herself.

This trip would be a weekend of firsts, Rori thought as she tried on her bridesmaid’s outfit again. It was going to be a biker wedding, so no puffy skirts or dresses. Instead, there was a pair of skin-tight black jeans, high-heeled ankle boots, and a light blue silk blouse with no sleeves and a halter top. The color complimented her raven-black hair with the blue highlights. It was open in the back nearly to the top of her toned butt, and the design wouldn’t allow a bra. Rori didn’t need one; she wasn’t buxom like some of the other ladies. She had firm B-cups with no sag. She frowned as she checked her reflection, she might have to put tape on to keep her nipples from poking out through the thin fabric.

She loved the look of the outfit; it clung to her athletic frame and showed off the tattoo on her back. She smiled as she looked in the mirror; in exchange for some tattoo designs and bike customization work in Las Vegas, she now wore her favorite painting on her back. The big rust-colored wolf was lying on the rock outcropping, looking out over the field, with the black, grey, and white wolf sitting protectively over her. The image had been in her dreams for years, and now it lived and moved on her back. She had more of her art tattoed on her upper arms, and the outfit highlighted it.

There was a knock on the door. “Decent?”

“Come in, Nuke.” The door opened, and Johnny “Nuke” LaLuce came in. He was her closest friend in the chapter, a patched member since shortly after he left the Navy. He was still young, only twenty-five, and he preferred wearing a wifebeater shirt under his cut to show off his broad shoulders and bulging biceps. He was a state champion wrestler in high school, still solidly built at five-foot-ten and a hundred and eighty pounds. He was popular with the younger women hanging around the Club and a frequent workout and sparring partner.

“Damn, girl, you’re tempting the hell out of me with that outfit. If not for Wolfman’s orders, I’d toss you down on the bed and screw you until you can’t remember your name.”

“You realize that your end would be long and painful, Nuke. Wolfman isn’t the only one who’d want a piece of you. What was left of you would end up in a shallow grave in the woods.” Wolfman was the Chapter President. He had laid down the law regarding her when she arrived from Sacramento. Her status as the daughter of a fellow Club Member (her Mom and Roadkill, plus Mongo and Three Tequila from Orlando, among others) meant that she was untouchable. Dating her could not happen without permission, and that wasn’t coming.

“I know, but you’re making the decision hard.” He sat on the end of her bed as she looked at the dress in the mirror. “That’s not all you’re making hard,” he whispered to himself.

“It’s all life choices, Nuke. Not all choices let you have a life.”

“Rori, you’re going to be eighteen in three days. They can’t stop you from doing what you want when you are of legal age.”

Rori just laughed. “I might get my Steel Ladies cut, but do you think Mongo will give you his permission to date me? You’re a nice guy, Nuke. I’d hate to have you disappear without a trace.” She turned back to him. “What do you think?”

“I think your mom and everyone else will figure out you’re all grown up now. You look fantastic, Rori.”

“Thank you.” She went over to her suitcase, where her carry-on bag carried all they would need for the three-day trip to Orlando. The Club had kept the nuptials secret; the non-Club guests only heard it was going to be a surprise party for Donna. When they showed up at the bar, they would be taken by bus to the Clubhouse for the wedding. “I’m so excited to for her.”

“Finish packing, we leave in two hours.”

“Remind me again why we’re taking the redeye?”

“Wolfman said it’s easier to sneak you out of town if it’s dark out at the time, and we get to Orlando while normal people are still sleeping,” he said. “Maybe you can sleep on the plane.”

“Only if I’m able to use the Mighty Elk’s pillows,” I said with a reply. Wolfman’s Old Lady, Mighty Elk, got her Club name because of her magnificent rack. She was a real-life version of Jessica Rabbit.

“Just change, then come down and play some pool with me until we have to leave,” he said.

A few games and some beer sounded good. Rori packed the wedding outfit and changed back into a pair of jeans, cross-training shoes, and a T-shirt and hoodie that would be good for the cross-country flight. A few more hours and she’d see her Mom and Grandma, plus all her Orlando friends. She couldn’t wait.

--

Coral walked into the hospital carrying the bag of takeout food. Eyes turned towards her as she walked to the elevator, but she hardly noticed anymore. She was a striking young woman, but she was deep in human territory, and her wolf knew her mate was not around. She entered the elevator of the Fairfax Behavioral Health Center in Kirkland, twenty minutes east of Seattle, and pressed the button for the second floor.

The elevator opened into a waiting area with a secure visiting room on the other side of the security station. Coral walked to the guard and smiled. “I’m here to see Doctor Nygaard, he’s expecting me,” she said.

“I’ll see if he’s available,” the young man said as he checked her out. Her werewolf genes and her workouts left her with a killer body, not that she let anyone touch it. She wanted her mate; she’d wanted to find her mate since she first shifted at fourteen. So far, she had no luck in finding him. Her current assignment, trying to get into Steel Brotherhood clubhouses to look for traces of the elusive Rori King, wasn’t helping. Gaining access to the clubhouses was easy for her if she dressed like a slut and acted like an airhead. The tough part was fending off all the horny and drunken men she could meet at these clubs. Her wolf wanted to beat the crap out of any man who looked at her that way.

She understood the importance of the search to the Council, but she’d just rather be back doing combat training. Beta Carlson had failed time and again over his first six months; they tracked her down a few times, but the Brotherhood moved her away, and they had to start over again. There were over a hundred chapters in the United States, and keeping surveillance on one took a lot of resources. After failure after failure, the Alpha had changed tactics.

He sent in Coral.

The Clubs were private, and they didn’t have the time for male werewolves to go through the process of getting to know a member, and getting invited to be a hang around. Hot Women would get invited to party at the Clubs in a heartbeat if they showed interest in one of the single men. She’d been hanging around biker bars in the Seattle area, trolling for Steel Brotherhood members. She got hungry, and her twin brother was always working. So, she texted him that she would bring him dinner if he wanted.

There was the click of a door unlocking, and Chase walked into the room. “You’re a lifesaver, sis,” he said as he sat down next to her. Wolves liked meals heavy on rare, red meat, something difficult to find on any hospital menu. He unwrapped the prime rib sandwich, groaning with the first bite as the taste of the beef and raw horseradish hit him.

She smiled as she unwrapped her sandwich. “Things still busy?” She shook her head as she thought about his schedule; as a medical resident, he was slave labor to the hospital. He was ALWAYS working.

He nodded and took a drink of the milk before talking again. “Two more days, and then I should be able to get home. I miss Mom’s cooking.” He took another big bite and swallowed it down before continuing. “How is your assignment going?”

“It’s slow. I’m glad to be close to home for a few days. I can drive to the House after I get done late at night and decompress. I just feel like I need to take a shower and burn my clothes after being in those places. Smoke, beer, and human sweat steeped in lust isn’t a good smell for me.” Chase nodded, knowing how tough it was on her. “My team likes it. They can stay with our Pack instead of being stuck in some sleazy motel.” She had three other wolves, all future Betas from other Packs, who were working with her. They provided backup and were responsible for snatching the elusive Ms. King if she could find her. “It’s more fun than being stuck on stakeout duty in Orlando with her Mom. Those guys rotate out every month or so before the Club notices them. At least we get to ride and drink.”

He got a page, shaking his head as he looked at it. He finished off the sandwich, washing it down with the rest of the milk. “Thanks for bringing this, Coral. I have to go.”

“I know. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you at home Sunday.” He hugged her, then went back through the door that electronically locked behind him. She took a few more minutes, eating the rest of her sandwich and the fries that he’d left on the table. Cleaning up after herself, she waved to the guard and went back into the elevator.

She drove to a gas station, carrying a bag into the restroom to change into her ‘clubbing’ outfit, high-heeled boots, tight jeans, and a Harley crop top with a leather jacket over it. Putting the other clothes in her saddlebag, she headed southwest towards Renton. She had met a guy earlier in the week, and Nuke had told her she should come by sometime and party with him. She should be there by ten, plenty early to show up at a biker party.

--

The group of four arrived at Sea-Tac airport at eight PM, plenty of time before their 9:38 Alaska Air flight to Orlando. The plane was full, and a crying baby in the row ahead of her and a rambunctious and sleep-deprived toddler kicking her seat left Rori tired and grumpy by the time they landed just before six in the morning. Worse, there wasn’t enough room in the overhead compartments for their bags, so they were waiting at baggage claim for them. “Our ride is waiting,” Werewolf said as he came back to their group. Their cuts were packed, you didn’t wear them when riding in cars or airplanes, and they were trying to be low-key; at least as low-key as a middle-aged guy who was intimidating as hell, his stacked wife, muscled son, and hot daughter could look.

Eventually, the bags were retrieved and loaded into a 10-passenger van with tinted windows. As soon as the door closed, Rori leaned over the front seat. “TRIPOD!” Rori hugged the driver from behind; he was the Vice President of the Orlando chapter.

“Great to see you again, Rori. You look fantastic.”

“I’m so happy to be here. Let’s get going!”

He pulled forward, staying by the curb. “Can’t, we’re still waiting for Mongo to come out with your roommate for the weekend. The Clubhouse is full, so you’re going to have to double up in your room.”

No big deal, she thought, lots of people were coming in. “Do I know her?”

“Pretty sure you do.” A few minutes later, the big biker President walked out with a tall, leggy blonde with her hair in a high ponytail. Her Mom was walking on the other side. “Don’t say anything until we leave,” he told her as her jaw hung open.

The sliding door opened, and Mongo helped the ladies up with their bags. The door had barely closed before the screams of two teens had the rest holding their ears. Rori was hugging her best friend Jenny, both of them crying their eyes out, as her Mom looked on in shock.

Tripod put it in gear and pulled out as Mongo just smiled.

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