Authors: Tina Wainscott
The biggest of the men who’d just walked out grabbed his woman’s hair and spun her around, leaning into her face. “You don’t talk to me like that, bitch. You got that?”
“I only meant—”
He slapped her face. “I don’t care what you meant. It sounded like disrespect.”
Julian’s body tensed as every cell strained to defend the woman. He knew that biker chicks were treated like property, something they accepted. But that didn’t make it any easier for Julian to stand by and watch it happen. If the
bicho
hit her again, Julian would step out. It wouldn’t be the first time. He and Rath had almost come to blows with bikers a couple of times over this very scenario.
The woman lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”
Her old man released her hair and continued on to his bike, she following like a scolded puppy. It made Julian sick, but at least she wouldn’t be beaten here.
They were at the far end of the parking lot when the same bully pushed another guy so hard that he stumbled and fell to the ground. He raised his hands when his attacker pulled a gun and jammed the muzzle toward him. Julian strained to hear their low, muttered words, but could only make out “You ever do that again” and, from the guy on the ground, “I swear …”
The big guy pistol-whipped him and walked over to his bike, so confident that he turned his back. No one helped the fallen guy to his feet. He brushed himself off and slunk toward his bike. They mounted their Harleys without another word. The familiar rumble was only a little louder than the music coming from inside, but soon it too faded into the night.
“Was one of them the dude you were going to meet?” the man in the car asked.
“No, none of those guys was Billy Bob.” She turned on her cell phone, the light glowing on her pretty face. “They’re twenty minutes late. I’m going in, have a look around.”
She stepped out, and her companion scrambled around the front to block her path. “This is a bad idea, Mollie,” he whispered, glancing in the direction the bikes had gone.
“Ask yourself this: why is this guy being helpful?”
Mollie’s mouth tightened. “He said his younger sister was kidnapped when he was a kid, so he could relate to my search for mine.”
The man’s harsh laugh grated. “He’s going to tell you anything so he can get you alone and do who-knows-what to you.”
“Uh, that’s why I hired you to accompany me. You said you’d done this kind of work before.”
His eyes shifted away. “I escorted a friend who was being stalked to a concert once. But this shit”—he nodded toward the bar—“is much bigger than I was thinking. You saw what just happened. These dudes are insane. Even armed, I’m way outnumbered.”
“You act like I’m helpless.” She involuntarily patted the piece at her waist. “You saw my range target last week.”
“You’re decent, I grant you that. But even with as much practice as you’ve obviously had, you’re still no match for these guys.”
“I don’t think it’ll come to that. Billy Bob’s a prospect, not hardened like the full-fledged members. My gut says he’s sincere.”
The guy let out a long breath. “From what you told me, your gut has dragged you through six states for the last month and a half chasing false leads.” He flicked a glance at his watch. “He’s a no-show. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
She shook her head. “I’m not giving up on her like everyone else in our life has, Kevin.” Emotion thickened her voice, twisting Julian’s heart. “I’m all she has left.”
A cab pulled into the lot, tires crunching on crumbled asphalt. A man stumbled out and shoved some wrinkled bills at the driver.
Kevin said, “You want to stick around, fine. But I’m not down for being jumped by a bunch of bikers.” He dug into his pocket and handed her something as he waved at the cabdriver. “Here’s your money back. I’m outta here. But you shouldn’t go through with this meeting alone,” Kevin called out as he headed toward the cab.
Mollie wrapped her arms around herself. “Like you said, he’s probably a no-show.”
She gripped her door handle as she watched the cab leave. Julian wondered if she felt as alone as he had minutes earlier.
He stepped out of the shadows, his hands in his pockets to appear less threatening. “Hey, Mollie. As much of a
bicho
—I mean, dick—as that wannabe mercenary is, he’s right. You shouldn’t be meeting this biker, prospect or not, alone.”
She started, surprise and fear crossing her face before she shored her shoulders. Her fingers brushed the gun as she sized him up. “You were listening to our private conversation?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was about to roll out when I heard your exchange. I’m not a King.” He figured she was looking for his club colors, the patches members wore on their vests. “Or part of any club. But I did just get out of the military, which means that not only can I use a gun, I’ve faced a lot more than a bunch of bikers. Let me be your backup.”
She maintained a shuttered expression. “No, but thank you. We’re meeting outside. If he even shows.”
“Prospects can be worse than patches. In gangs like this, they have to commit a crime to prove themselves before patching in. Things like procuring a babe for a gang rape, for instance. I’m Julian, by the way.” He didn’t bother extending his hand, knowing she’d refuse to shake it.
Her eyes narrowed. “I saw you at the gas station earlier. Are you following me?”
“I’m flattered that you remembered. And no, I was here first. Maybe you’re following me.” He tried to make light of the accusation, but her face tensed even more.
“Please leave. I don’t want you to scare Billy Bob off. Why would you help me, anyway?”
Hadn’t he taught his sisters and female cousins to be wary of strangers who offer unsolicited help? “Because you’re going into a dangerous situation alone. You may think you’re tough, but if you’re up against a gang, your gun isn’t going to keep you safe.”
She blinked when he’d mentioned her gun. “How did you know I’m armed? Oh, you overheard me talking about shooting.”
“I’m military, trained to assess threats. I didn’t need to overhear you. You give yourself away,
mami
, which costs the element of surprise. Whenever I mention a threat, you do this.” He mirrored the action of her hand hovering near her gun. “You need every advantage when you’re dealing with these people. Let me be an advantage, too.”
“No, thank you.”
He released a long breath. Of course, she didn’t trust him. But she’d trusted that other guy. “Where’d you meet Kevin? Bodyguards R Us?”
She almost laughed. Almost. “At a shooting range. I was getting in some practice, and he came up and complimented my marksmanship. When I told him I was looking for my sister, he offered to help.”
Julian snorted. “For a price. Wait a minute. Missing sister. You posted a flyer at the gas station, didn’t you? The one in the window?”
“I’ve been posting them everywhere.”
“Give me one. I’ll watch for her on my way to Miami.”
Keeping her eye on him, she backed toward her car, got in, and handed it to him through the open window. He could see the glint of metal and the muzzle of the gun she now held in her lap. She was about to meet with some guy whose aim in life was to join an outlaw motorcycle gang, and she was afraid of Julian. He shook his head as he lifted the flyer to the light. The girl in the color photo resembled Mollie feature-wise, with her big blue eyes and high cheekbones. But where Mollie had light red hair, her sister was a dark redhead. And she had the same glassy, lost look he’d seen in his ex-girlfriend’s eyes. Her escalating drug use had broken his heart and made him crazy at the same time. When she wouldn’t even try to go straight, he’d had to quit the relationship to preserve his own sanity.
Beneath a date of birth and disappearance, it read,
Diana Reagan, aka Birdy, last seen in the company of the Kings of Chaos during a bike rally in Daytona Beach, FL
.
He gestured toward the bar by pursing his lips, then realized she might not understand the Puerto Rican gesture and pointed. “You’ve been doing this kind of thing, hanging out at biker bars, meeting strangers?”
She shrugged, keeping her gaze ahead. “It’s all I have. A lead here, a tip there.”
“Mostly by yourself?” He tried to keep the surprise from his voice.
“I’m the only one I can count on.” She started to roll the window back up.
And the
bicho
who’d just left had proven that to her again. Julian waved the flyer in farewell and backed away. At least she was waiting in her car now. No doubt about it—the woman had
cojones
. Admiration and fear bombarded him as he glanced back at her car. She was watching him, though she quickly averted her gaze.
She didn’t look one bit closer to reconsidering her plan or her refusal of his help. He’d seen that single-mindedness in soldiers he’d fought beside. They had a job to do, and it didn’t matter if they were creeping through enemy territory in the dark or, like that last mission, entering the compound of a well-armed enemy. For them, it was another day at the office, a challenge. For her, this was personal. Even more than the fact that it involved her sister. He’d heard her emotion when she’d told the idiot she couldn’t give up on Diana. Her words had wrapped around his bones.
Who gave up on you
, mami?
Talk about getting emotionally involved. Julian mounted his bike. She looked the other way as he drove past her a minute later. Just out of sight of the bar, he pulled into an empty parking lot and sent Rath a text:
Come on back, brother. Possible trouble
. He doubted Rath would feel the vibration of his phone over the one on his bike, or hear the chain saw notification sound, but Julian figured he’d try anyway.
He pulled the flyer from his pocket and called Chase. “Hey, it’s Julian. You said it was never too late to call.”
“Not at all,” Chase said. “What’s up?”
“You told us that sometimes your operatives bring a case to TJA.” He looked at the flyer. “I have one.” He gave Chase the rundown on the situation. “The gang might not show up, but I’m going to stick around just in case.” Julian stared at the bar in the near distance. “I want to help her. Not only right now, but to find her sister.”
“This desire doesn’t have anything to do with her being, say, attractive? Or the damsel-in-distress syndrome?”
“
Wanting
to help might be because she’s pretty, and yes, she’s in distress. But the
need
to help—I think it has to do with family. Being cut off from my family is hard. I get the impression her connection with her sister is the only true one she has.” He sensed that Chase was perceptive, and Julian vowed to be aboveboard with him. He’d spent enough of his childhood lying and scheming, well trained by his loving family.
“Are you still with Rath? I’d feel better knowing you have backup.”
“Rath just took off, but I sent him a text to roll on back. I’ve handled six or seven bad guys at once by myself. I can handle a bunch of tweaked-out bikers, if it comes to that. It’s the woman I’m worried about. Because she isn’t going to like my butting in one bit.”
Greaser held a .38 to Billy Bob’s head, waiting for the club’s president to give the go-ahead. Waiting anxiously, judging by the way his eyes kept going from the gun to his boss, like a dog waiting for the attack command. Scotch, a nod to his Scottish heritage and drink of choice, gave his sergeant at arms the signal to hold.
He stood in front of Billy Bob, who was on his knees. “Did you tell the Reagan woman that the Kings still had her sister?”
“No.” Billy Bob shook his head so hard that his neck crackled. “I wouldn’t say something like that.”
“But you were willing to give her information. Without consulting me. Why is that, Billy Bob?”
“She’s been looking for her sister, and my sister was kidnapped when I was a kid. Never did find her, and it tore my family apart. I felt sorry for Mollie, ya know? She said Birdy called her a month ago, wanting to come home. I wasn’t going to give away any incriminating information, Scotch. I swear.”
The prospect was putting his feelings above the club’s interests. That wouldn’t do. Scotch remembered Birdy—their nickname for the sister—making that call. She’d sneaked off with Boner’s cell. Boner had cuffed her before she was about to give away their location. Then he’d given her more crank to shut her up. Good thing they used untraceable cell phones.
“This woman’s been dogging the chapters for a month now. If she finds out anything about her sister, it’s going to make trouble. We don’t need trouble, unless we’re causing it.” He smiled at Greaser. “Ain’t that right?”
“Yeah, boss. Sure is.”
Billy Bob’s breathing was erratic. “I figured since you talked to her, it was okay to help her out.”
“But see, Billy Bob, here’s the thing. I’m the president. I can make those kinds of decisions. And I was getting rid of her. I sent her to our rivals, the Purgatory Posse.” They vied with the Kings for the title of most violent motorcycle club. “I figured once she started sniffing around, they’d take care of her. But nope, ’cause here she is again, like an outbreak of VD. See, clubs don’t like nosy people.” Or nosy members. Scotch had gotten wind of Billy Bob’s inquiries. “What have you already told the Reagan woman?” Scotch kept his voice modulated, nonthreatening.
“Only that she and Brick were gone. I didn’t say nothing about how it went down.” He shuddered, probably remembering Brick’s screams of agony.
The guy was definitely too soft to be a King. Scotch had had his doubts from the beginning about Billy Bob being patch-worthy. Lots of guys wanted to become part of a society that would protect them, stand by them. Most didn’t have the grit to ride with the Kings.
Scotch had much fonder memories of Brick’s departure. “So you were going to meet her tonight and tell her what?”
“Just that Birdy was with one of our sister chapters and doing okay. I figured Mollie would be happy knowing that. Maybe she’d go home.”
“You’re talking out your ass, prospect. That kind of information is only going to spur her on. Then they’d get pissed that we sent her.” He scratched his beard, his fingers sliding against the greasy strands. “Margie said you were planning to meet the sister back at the bar at two, when we were supposed to be heading over.” Good thing the bartender was his ol’ lady. She’d overheard the prospect’s call with Mollie Reagan, so Scotch had changed the plan.