Blood & Bones: Ozzy by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Twelve

Trip jerkedhis head toward the back of The Barn. “Upstairs.”

Both he and Deacon, along with his American Bulldog on his heels, headed that way without waiting.

“Guess we’re doin’ this upstairs,” he said to Shay.

He glanced down at her when her fingers tightened around his. She was now wearing a black pair of shorts with a white sleeveless button-down blouse and some black sandals that showed off her sexy as fuck toes.

He’d tasted every single one of those toes last night. She had squirmed and giggled at first, but he kept at it until those giggles turned into serious moans and she melted into the mattress.

Yeah, she was not only stepping out of her comfortable box, he was helping break down the walls she used to create it.

After he made her breakfast—basic, but mostly edible—he’d secured her room for another night, then she had sat on his back deck while doing whatever work she needed to get done.

They’d even squeezed in another quick fuck before coming over to the farm for their meet with Trip and Deke. Since the weather was decent, they took his sled and she was able to sling her laptop bag over her back. He had removed his leather saddlebags once he’d settled into the apartment above the motel office since he no longer needed them. At least, until he hit the road again.

He wouldn’t decide when that was until Shay went back to Boston. While she was in town and in his bed, he wasn’t going anywhere.

He was no fucking fool.

As they worked their way up the steps, she was in front of him and he grabbed her ass, making her squeak in surprise, then warned her, “Eatin’ that ass tonight. Just sayin’.”

She stopped two steps above him and turned, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, how am I supposed to concentrate on my presentation after hearing that?”

“First off, ain’t gonna be no formal presentation. Just talk to them and tell them about what you can do. That’s it.”

“I have a PowerPoint that I show prospective clients.”

He snorted. “This ain’t no boardroom where you gotta impress a bunch of asshole suits. Deke and Trip ain’t gonna wanna see no PowerPoint.”

Her brow wrinkled. “How do you know?”

“I know ‘cause they’re simple.” Using her arm, he turned her around and slapped her ass to get her moving. “Now get up there so we can get this shit over with and head back to the motel to do what I just said.”

She sighed and continued up the last couple of steps.

As they entered the meeting room, Trip announced, “It woulda been better if we didn’t know your fuckin’ plans after this.”

Ozzy grinned and lifted one brow. “You wanna see a PowerPoint?”

Deke shook his head. “On eatin’ ass? Fuck no. No demo needed.”

Shay pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. “I—”

“Oz is right,” Trip said, interrupting her. “We’re simple fucks. Don’t need anythin’ fancy, just give it to us straight.”

Ozzy moved around her and pulled out one of the chairs, settling himself into it and giving her the floor and the end of the table opposite of where Trip was sitting for her to set up her laptop.

“Okay, well…” She wiped her hands along the sides of her shorts. “I’m Shay—”

“They got that figured out already, sweetheart,” Ozzy said. He tipped his head toward Trip. “This is Trip, our prez, and that asshole there is Deacon. You can call him Dick for short. He prefers it. He’s the one that controls the scratch.”

“Scratch?”

“The green shit that pays the bills,” Deacon said rubbing his thumb against two fingers, doing the universal sign of money. “And if he hasn’t told you yet, he prefers Ozhole.”

Shay’s brown eyes flicked to him and then back to Deke. “I’ll make a note of it.”

Deacon grinned. “’Specially durin’ sex. The louder you scream it, the better.”

“Oh, we… we’re not…”

“Yeah, we are.” Ozzy answered. “Anyway, no PowerPoint needed to demonstrate my skills.”

“Yeah, we’ve all seen your skills,” Trip said dryly.

“On the bar, on the bus benches, on the picnic tables, against the wall, on the floor, on your sled, over the—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ozzy yelled, drowning out Deacon. “Can we get to it?”

Trip yanked the bill of his black ball cap lower and tipped his face down as his body shook while Deke didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

Deacon lifted a hand and started ticking off names on his fingers. “With Angel, Billie, Amber, Crystal, Li—”

“She got the fuckin’ point!” Ozzy growled, catching Deacon’s gaze and holding it while shooting daggers across the table at him.

Shay began to say, “I don’t know who—”

“He’ll be glad to explain later.”

Ozzy surged from his chair and as he reached across the table to grab Deacon, the club’s treasurer scraped his chair back until he was out of reach. At the same time, Trip shot to his feet, slamming the gavel on the table, and yelled, “Fuckin’ Christ. Enough!”

Justice shot out from under the table, a line of hair on his back raised as he growled and looked around for a threat.

Trip waited until Ozzy sank back into his seat, Deacon scooted his chair back in place and Justice disappeared back under the table to return to his nap, before the prez sat back down. He eyeballed both of them, giving them a silent warning, then returned his attention to Shay who stood frozen at the end of the table with her eyes wide. “Ignore these assholes. You got the floor.”

She took a visible breath, nodded, pulled her laptop out of the bag and set it up. She did some typing and a bunch of clicking. A few seconds later, she turned the screen toward them and slid the laptop across the table to the edge of the carved Fury insignia.

“This is a website I recently designed for a veterinary hospital. As you can see…”

Trip stretched across the table and pulled the laptop closer, clicking on a bunch of shit.

“Consistent business branding is really important,” she continued, doing her best to be professional in a very unprofessional setting. “Everything should match. Headers, logos, business cards, et cetera. Anything to do with your business should be recognizable. I could design all of that, too, for the motel.”

“We got somethin’ similar,” Trip mumbled, his attention on the laptop in front of him as he continued to click through the website.

Her brow creased. “A vet practice?”

“Tioga Pet Services,” Deacon answered, pulling a corner of the laptop toward him so he could see what Trip was looking at.

“Oh, like pet grooming?”

“Ain’t pet groomin’,” Ozzy answered. He scratched the back of his neck. “End of life shit.”

“End of…” She frowned. After a second, her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, like burial services?” She frowned again. “You have a pet cemetery here on the farm?”

Trip lifted his head. “Euthanasia and cremation services.”

“Oh… Well. That’s an unconventional business for an MC to own, isn’t it?”

“Serves its purpose,” Ozzy answered and left it at that.

It was the most useful business for the Fury to own. Its value had nothing to do with the profit it pulled in and everything to do with getting rid of evidence that would land his brothers a lifetime behind bars.

“Do you have a website set up for that business?”

“Yeah,” Deacon said, “Came with the business when we bought it, but it hasn’t been touched and could use some updatin’.”

“I could do a complete refresh on it, if you’re interested. Anyway, most businesses find that a lot of people hate using the phone anymore. Calling usually takes too much time out of their day and it’s inconvenient. They prefer either an email or a web form to contact the business. They can quickly shoot one off and then, when they have time, check their email later for a response. No waiting on hold, no phone tag, none of that. I can even design an online scheduler. It would make it even more convenient for the customer.”

“Sounds expensive,” Trip mumbled as he stared at the screen.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m not cheap and you can find someone to do it cheaper. But,” she shrugged, “you can’t expect coq au vin if you’re only willing to pay for fried chicken.”

“Cocoa what?” Deacon asked.

Ozzy had no idea what coq au vin was, either, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ask, like Deacon. He simply nodded his head like he knew what the fuck she was talking about.

“It’s a French dish that—” Shay began.

Trip’s dark eyes lifted and he stared across the table at Shay. “Don’t even waste your fuckin’ breath. He ain’t ever gonna eat it. Show me another one you’ve done.”

“Google Beantown BBQ.”

Unlike Ozzy, Trip used both hands and all his fingers to type. After clicking through that website, he said, “Probably not the best site to send me to since I’m distracted by the photos. Man, that barbecue looks fuckin’ good.”

“I took those photos.”

Did her chest actually puff out a little bit? Fuck yeah, it did.

Ozzy shot her a look that told her she was nailing her presentation.

She gave Trip one more site to look up and when he was done, he sat back in his seat and focused on the woman at the other end of the table. “Definitely got an eye for design.”

Her lips began to curl at the ends as if she was going to smile, but she stopped her reaction. Even so, she had a difficult time hiding the effect Trip’s compliment had on her since it was totally readable in her brown eyes. “Thank you.”

Suddenly her confidence ratcheted up a few notches.

“You might want me to build one for your club, too. Earlier, I did a quick search online and found that a few MCs have websites. They also sell merchandise and more.”

“Could be a good way to find any more Originals out there,” Trip said, flipping his cap off his head and scraping his fingers through his hair before jerking it back on.

“Or their kids,” Deacon added.

Ozzy could see Trip’s wheels turning as their prez glanced at Deacon and nodded.

“Would you like me to give you a proposal to design websites for the motel, the club and Tioga Pet Services?” She counted the three businesses off on her fingers. “If you want me to design custom logos, it’ll be extra but I can put together a package deal. The more work, the bigger the discount.”

Ozzy could see she was trying to contain her excitement.

“No,” Trip said, tilting his head as his gaze landed on Ozzy.

She deflated in front of Ozzy’s eyes. “Oh… okay…”

Trip slid the laptop back across the table toward her. “Write this shit down…”

With her brow furrowed, she leaned across the table, grabbed the laptop and turned it toward her.

Ozzy used his foot to kick out the chair next to him. “Sit. No reason to keep standin’. Told you this shit’s casual.”

She nodded, took the seat next to him and began to type as Trip talked.

“Now,” Trip started, “want a site for the motel with some sort of reservation system and an updated one for the crematorium. For now, just a landing page for the club with only basic contact info. Ain’t gettin’ into any merch at this point. Not sure I want other fuckers wearin’ our colors on hats, shirts and shit like that. Fuck that. Our colors represent our family and our family ain’t for sale. Also, need a site for Shelter from the Storm. Reilly can work with you on that.” He glanced at Deke. “For the bail bonds biz?”

Deacon shrugged. “Got some generic bullshit page now. A badass logo and interactive website would be killer. Maybe even a way to take online payments.”

Trip turned back to Shay. “Add Justice Bail Bonds to the list. Buck You Recovery, my repo business, too. That one don’t gotta be too fancy since, for the most part, we deal directly with the finance companies.”

“How about Crazy Pete’s?” Shay was no longer hiding her excitement and he could hear it in her question with all the potential work landing in her lap. “I could set up an events page for all the activities the bar has. Like the band the other night. It might bring in even more customers.”

Trip’s eyes had sliced to Ozzy when Shay mentioned the band. He shrugged slightly. No reason to hide the fact that he took her there since Dodge and the prospects were witnesses.

Trip eventually nodded. “Yeah, the bar’s finally makin’ a fuckin’ profit after suckin’ the coffers dry with all the scratch used to turn it around.”

“Will make it easier for bands to book. An easy way to contact Stella or Dodge.” Ozzy suggested. The more work she had, the longer she might stick around. “What about Dutch’s?”

Trip shrugged. “Club don’t get a cut of Dutch’s garage, so that would be up to him. He’d have to break out some of his fuckin’ moldy money, but I can talk to the old man about it. Also don’t get a cut of the bail bonds business, so Judge and Deke will pay for that portion. But it’s a good time to get it done for both businesses.”

Deacon tapped his index finger on the table. “Agreed.”

“How soon can you get me a proposal?” Trip asked Shay.

She lifted her head from her computer. “I’ll start working on it tonight.”

She was going to do what? “Yeah, no. We got plans. She can work on it tomorrow.”

Trip nodded. “Ain’t in no rush. Ozzy probably ain’t in no rush, either. Are you, Oz?”

“Motel’s been pullin’ a profit without a website,” he answered, purposely misunderstanding. Even so, he figured what he said was true even though Red was the one who did the books. Ozzy was sure he’d hear about it if the motel was in the hole.

“Ain’t what I meant,” Trip said with a grin. He did a single clap. “‘Kay. Once we see how much this is gonna set us back and we give you the go ahead to begin, we’ll get you hooked up with whoever’s in charge of whatever business you’re workin’ on so they can give you all the details.”

“I would need access to take photos, too. A photo gallery is always good to have on a website.”

“‘Cept for the club site. No photos. No address. Just a contact number and email.”

“Got it,” Shay said as she typed more notes. “Is that it for the club’s businesses?”

Trip’s eyebrows rose. “That ain’t enough?”

“Truthfully, if you accept my proposal, what you gave me will keep me busy for a while.”

Thank fuck.

“You stayin’ in town while you do this?” Trip asked. His gaze sliding between Ozzy and Shay. “Or you headin’ back to wherever you’re from?”

“I—”

“Figured you’d want her to stick around here,” Ozzy said quickly. He gave Trip a look to remind him about her missing father and also about the text he sent earlier about keeping her around while she did the work.

“Yeah. That’s right. That would be best.” Trip leaned back in his chair again. “Be easier that way. Long as you don’t got anything pressin’ at home.”

“I don’t, I—”

“You can work downstairs, if you want, in our church. Can set up an area for you. You’d have full access to our kitchen, plenty of food, booze, the pavilion. You need anythin’ and one of the prospects or a sweet butt can get it for you. You would never be hungry, thirsty or have a lack of company.”

“Sweet butt?”

Deacon made a sound across the table. “Remember that list I was beginn—”

“Will explain it later,” Ozzy quickly cut him off.

Her eyes flicked from Deacon back to him.

“Anyway,” Trip continued, “you got room for her to stay at the motel?”

“Hadn’t checked for longer than tonight yet,” Ozzy answered him.

Shay twisted in her seat to face him. “See? If your reservation system was online, you could log in and check from here.”

“Yeah, see? You could manage the motel everywhere you go. No excuses,” Trip said.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Like he needed another strand in the rope already strangling him.

“Well, if there ain’t room at the motel, got an empty room here in the bunkhouse.” He turned to Shay. “Ry said it’s a lot like dorm livin’ but with a buncha rude, filthy pigs. You’d have your own room, a private shitter and, again, you’d have access to everythin’ in the barn, the kitchen and the rest of that shit.”

Why the fuck would Trip allow a woman to stay in the bunkhouse? One of the rules was no women overnight. Now he was suddenly changing that up? Fuck that.

“No,” Ozzy said, shaking his head.

A single eyebrow crawled up Trip’s forehead. “No?”

“Got it covered.”

“It’s an option. Better than turnin’ down a payin’ guest.”

“Oh, I can pay—”

Once again, Trip cut her off. “Ain’t payin’ if you’re workin’ for us.”

“Well, technically…”

“While you’re here workin’ on our shit, you’re workin’ for us, means you ain’t payin’. We got everythin’ you need covered so that ain’t added to the cost.” He turned back to Ozzy and said firmly, “You ain’t gotta room available for her, she can stay here.”

“Got it covered,” he insisted, giving Trip a look.

The Fury prez grinned. He was just being a dick.

“All right, just see that you do. But she can work downstairs if she wants. Plenty of space to stretch her legs when she needs it. Up to her.”

“Once I get all the details of the businesses and take some photos, I only need an electrical outlet and strong WiFi.”

“Got that here,” Trip assured her.

“Got that at the motel, too,” Ozzy reminded Trip.

“But the office there is tiny and got guests comin’ in and out. And just sittin’ in a small motel room would get depressin’. Lots of sunshine and fresh air out here.”

Why the fuck was Trip pushing this? “Same fuckin’ sunshine and fresh air over at the motel,” Ozzy muttered.

Deacon made a sound and when Ozzy glanced at him, the asshole was wearing a huge grin that needed to be wiped off his fucking face.

The prez continued, “Plus one of the ol’ ladies is always around if she gets lonely.”

Ozzy’s jaw shifted. “She ain’t gonna get lonely.”

Trip rapped his knuckles on the table and stood. “Well, anyway… her choice.” He glanced at Shay who had remained quiet during that whole exchange. “Your choice. Our home’s your home while you’re here. Lot of us live on the farm, so it could be safer, too.”

“Safer?” she asked. “From?”

For fuck’s sake, he had to go there. As far as they knew, right now the mountain was empty and the Shirleys a distant memory. The club currently had no threats.

“From… life,” Trip answered. “Shit happens. That shit’s less likely to happen here.”

Wearing a frown, she turned to Ozzy. “Is Manning Grove no longer safe? When I was growing up here, the only threat was…” She hissed out a breath.

“Was?” Trip prodded. The man already knew the answer. So did Ozzy and Deacon.

“Your club,” she finished weakly.

“Not our club,” Trip corrected. “The Originals’. But yeah. For the most part, the Grove is safe.”

“The Fury don’t terrorize the town like the Originals used to,” Deacon added, oh-so-fucking helpfully. “We’re all pussycats. Meeeeeow.”

“Shoulda stopped at ‘pussy’ and spoke for yourself,” Ozzy told him.

“Holy fuck, you didn’t expect to get it easy when it came to your turn, did you?” Deacon asked while laughing. “Don’t remember you breakin’ out the lube when it came to the rest of us.”

“Your turn for what?” Shay asked Ozzy.

“He’s just talkin’ outta his ass, that’s all,” he assured her.

Deacon stood, still grinning. “Let me or Trip know when that proposal’s ready. Have Ozzy email it to us.” He laughed even louder at that and walked away. Justice scrambled from under the table, the bulldog’s tail held up like a boat’s rudder as he waddled after his owner.

“You got email now?” Trip asked with a smirk.

She twisted her head toward Ozzy. “Doesn’t the motel have an email address?”

“It will soon,” he muttered.

“Once it does, someone’s gotta teach him how to use it,” Trip threw over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “Better add that cost to the proposal. Though, I’m thinkin’ you’ll end up payin’ for that one, Shay, but with your patience and not money. Hope you got a lot of it. You’re gonna need it.”

That was one thing Ozzy wouldn’t argue.

Video game consoles were one thing, computers were another.