“Mr. Dover” sort of leaned back on the saddle of his Harley with crossed arms, looking supremely arrogant while the cop tooled off. I didn’t get out of the car until the cop was safely out of view. That was when “Mr. Dover” started heading my way.
His long arms dangled at his sides. He didn’t walk, he loped like a graceful animal, all sinew and confidence. Who was this bastard, anyway? And who the fuck was Mr. Dover? My arms were folded and I was practically tapping my shoe with irritation against the asphalt.
I spoke first. “I’m supposed to thank you, and I don’t even know who you are.”
His grin was infectious. Was he a good ole boy, or a stalker? “I used my natural inborn charm to talk him out of a ticket.”
“Why am I skeptical? I saw you handing him a card of some sort. And he’s calling you Mr. Dover.”
He reached for his pocket and I flinched. After the cop had left, I’d seen Fox Isherwood take a gun from his saddlebag and stick it down the back of his pants, like thugs and bikers did. He held his hands up to indicate he wasn’t going for the gun.
“Sorry.” I apologized. “I’m a bit gun-shy.”
“I can understand that.” Now his voice was full of concern. Who the fuck was he?
This time, I tried not to flinch when he withdrew a wallet on a chain and flipped out a business card. I took it like it was a piece of Belgian endive, my most hated vegetable. I looked at it from a distance as though it would infect me.
Benjamin Dover
Attorney-at-Law
500 Camino De La Placita
Taos NM 87571
I kept the card for future reference. “Ben Dover, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
He shrugged. He was so fully in control of himself, his life. I envied people like that. Mine was a train wreck. “Comes in handy in situations like this.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I just told him I was the lawyer for the Bare Bones MC. I don’t know them well, but I figure they have heft. I said I was the new lawyer for the club. And I said you were the new manager over at Triple Exposure Studios.”
My mouth hung low. “Triple Exposure? Thanks a lot!”
The mirth evaporated from his face. “Why? What’s wrong with Triple Exposure? I heard the Prospect at the club tell someone he’d better get over to Triple Exposure Studios, that there was a problem with their sound board.”
Now I laughed. What else could I do? His ruse had worked, that was all that mattered. Getting a ticket might be the kind of jeopardy that could result in Randy putting an end to my Joint System employment. “You didn’t know? Triple Exposure is an adult film studio the club owns.” I’d heard as much from Maddie and June. One of their brothers, Knoxie Hammett, used to work there. I’d checked it out in my spare time at home. As Rex Havoc, Knoxie fucked his way through such gems as A Clockwork Orgy, Ass Ventura: Smut Detective, and my favorite, Genital Hospital, where he got to wear a lab coat and give women exams.
Fox looked perplexed. “Oh. Well, the thing that actually did the trick was when I told him I’m the club’s new lawyer. Then he really got friendly. Said it was about time some guy named Slushy got disbarred, and he welcomed me to town.”
Slushy? Why did that name sound familiar? I recalled Lytton saying he’d named a pot brownie after Slushy, and something about the archery range. “And he believed a ‘lawyer’ wearing a slouch beanie.”
Without hesitation, Fox reached up and whipped his beanie off. I expected to see some patches of male pattern baldness, but he was just hiding a head of thick, glossy, copper-colored hair.
It was a gorgeous sight to behold, especially shining in the sun like that, the close-cropped waves of coppery wine color, glittering like he was some well-built King Henry the Eighth. I was aware that I was more than a little disappointed he wasn’t my tall, dark, handsome knight come to sweep me away on his scoot. My fantasy had never involved a tall, ginger, handsome knight.
“I have to thank you, then.” As a gesture of goodwill, I held out my hand to shake again. Again, his hand lingered a split second too long for propriety’s sake. “But what were you doing up here? There isn’t much in the way of scenery.”
He took a step closer to me, still holding my hand. The thin, skin-tight T-shirt he wore did nothing to stop the heat wave emanating from him. He was on fire in more ways than one. “Someone was following you.” Again with the ice blue, pinpoint eyes.
My heart flip-flopped with sudden fear. I believed him instantly, I really did. But I had to pretend that I didn’t. So I scoffed. “Me? Who would bother following me?”
“That was my first question. Why would someone be following you?”
“What did he look like?”
“Mexican. Short, of course. In his twenties. I noticed him in the side lot of The Bum Steer. He was watching both of you, then took off in his Impala when you pulled onto Bargain Boulevard.”