At Any Cost (5 page)

Livy leaned over the counter, craning her neck to watch the progress of the car. Her breathing kicked into gear at the exact moment her heart began to hammer in her rib cage. Fingers curled around the porcelain of the sink, she watched as the vehicle pulled into her driveway, backed up, and drove out the way it came.

“Livy?”

Panic seized her and she fought for the self-control to not let Nick see how freaked out she was. Inside, though, she was falling apart. Whoever it was could have gotten lost. A lot of the lanes around the lake looked similar and weren't marked clearly. It's not like she'd never had turnaround traffic in her driveway before. But what if the person who'd pulled into her driveway had known exactly where they were going?

“Livy, are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” She tried to play it off, but she was having trouble prying her hands loose from the sink. “I'm fine.” She needed to move away from McCall sooner rather than later.
Alone is better than dead. Alone is better than dead.

Nick reached over and covered her fingers with his. Warmth enveloped her as his hands swallowed hers. “You're not fine.” He eased her hands away from the sink but didn't let go. “You're shaking. What's going on?”

She turned to face him, knowing that her eyes were likely wide, her lips thinned, and face flushed. “Living alone,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Makes a girl paranoid. Especially when you're off the beaten path.”

Though she tried to pull away, he kept her fingers firmly in his grasp. It felt so
good
. The simple act filled her with a sense of security she hadn't felt in years. This was dangerous ground to tread. She couldn't allow herself to feel anything when she was with Nick. He'd be gone in a few weeks and Livy would have to start all over again, building up her courage day by day.

Nick let go of her hands and reached up to smooth a strand of hair away from her forehead. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”

Anything? Once again, Livy was struck with the notion that Nick's knowledge of her went beyond the superficial. Probably because he was a cop. They were trained to relate to people, to put them at ease when the situation called for it. “I'm fine. Really. I blame Frank. Without him around to bash unsuspecting house invaders and post-grocery-run ambushers, I'm totally defenseless. I think it's time to quit mourning and go out and buy a new shovel.”

Nick's lips formed a hard line as he regarded her. She couldn't put anything past him. He saw right through her lame attempt to deflect with humor. Either that or she wasn't close to as funny as she gave herself credit for.

His brown eyes bore straight through her, burning with a heat that made her heart smolder in her chest. A rush of delicious warmth spread from her stomach outward and settled low in her abdomen. It seemed not even the fear of being dismembered and buried in a shallow grave could tame her sudden lust for this man. “Have you eaten? I could order a pizza? And I promise not to freak out when the delivery car comes down the driveway.”

Nick's gaze narrowed. He still wasn't buying it. Well, too damned bad. He'd have to accept her explanation and get over it because she wasn't going to be confiding in him anytime soon. “All right,” he said after a moment. He continued to stare down at her and Livy fought the urge to go up on her tiptoes. Touch her lips to his.
Alone is better than dead.
“In exchange for feeding me, I'll check around the house for anything that might invite solicitors, missionaries, or home invaders to try something shady.”

“You forgot post-grocery-run ambushers.”

Nick grinned. She couldn't remember ever seeing a better-looking man in her life. “I'll personally take care of any ambushers. Sound good?”

Good?
“Better than good.” Nick Brady was too good to be true. “Chop some wood for me and I'll throw in a hard cider with the pizza.”

He smiled. “I'm sure we can work something out.”

Her insides melted every time he smiled. The simple expression lit his features until it was almost painful to look at him. Like staring up at an exposed bulb.
Damn it
. Out of all the empty cabins ringing the lake, why did he have to rent the one next door to hers?

Chapter Five

“Mendoza's shipment will be coming through on Tuesday. You ready for it?”

Joel Meecum's lip curled at the doubt in Sawyer's tone. The SoCal Charter of the Black Death had been working more closely with the cartel for the past few years and it was a barb that stuck in Joel's craw. It had been Joel and the Oakland Charter that had formed the relationship with Chico Mendoza and the cartel. But it was Sawyer's crew that was distributing their heroin throughout California now.

And it was absolute fucking bullshit.

“Apparently you forgot who taught you how to distribute Mendoza's shit.” Joel spat to his right as he cut Shorty Dodds, the club's VP, a look.

Sawyer smirked and Joel wanted to wipe that expression off his face with a forty-caliber bullet. “We're closer to the border. Closer to his tunnels.” A pregnant pause followed and Sawyer cleared his throat. “And there are rumors goin' around that are making Mendoza nervous.”

Joel's gut clenched and his jaw locked down. Shorty took a tentative step forward and said the words Joel couldn't manage to push past his clenched teeth. “What sort of rumors?”

Sawyer shrugged. “There's a lot of heat on you,” he said. “You've been laying low for a long goddamned time, man. You don't think Mendoza notices that shit?”

It was true Joel had been dodging federal warrants for the past four years. None of which had a damned thing to do with the club's business with the cartel. “That's a load of bullshit, Sawyer. I've got feds on the payroll and Mendoza knows that. My business is tight.”

“Is it?” Sawyer countered. Shorty took a lunging step forward and Joel held up a hand to stop him.

“Spit it the fuck out or quit wasting my time, Sawyer. Just what the hell is it that you think has Mendoza nervous?”

“You do a lot of business with a lot of important players,” Sawyer remarked. “When you've got your hands in so many cookie jars, records gotta be kept. Accounts managed. Mendoza doesn't want to see any of his information wind up in the wrong hands. It's the digital age, man. Ain't nobody's shit private anymore.”

That Sawyer knew anything about what worried Mendoza rankled. Further proof that Joel needed to tie up his loose ends and get his club—and his business—back on track. “My shit's private,” Joel quipped. Digital age? Shit. Joel didn't even own a fucking smartphone. He made sure all of his burners were basic. “Mendoza knows I don't fuck around with computers.”

“True,” Sawyer agreed. “But paper trails can be followed too.”

Joel regarded Sawyer with a caustic eye. Just what did the SoCal president know? Or worse, what had he heard? “Not mine,” he replied. “Not ever.”

Sawyer's brows shot up into his graying hairline. His dark blue eyes narrowed and he took a slow drag from his cigarette before expelling the smoke. “That's not what I heard.”

Joel's fingers caressed the butt of the revolver tucked into his waistband. Sawyer was pressing his luck and if he didn't watch his fucking mouth, he'd be eating a bullet. “Yeah?” Joel challenged. “Just what did you hear, motherfucker?”

The bastard had the good sense to pull back on his cocky attitude. He flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground. “It's not me that's talkin',” Sawyer said with a nervous wobble to the words. “It's not even anyone in the MC. Some cocky shit who slings for one of Mendoza's distributors said he heard you were lookin' for your old lady. That maybe she has something you want. Maybe something she took. You know how rumors spread.”

Joel did know how rumors spread. He'd counted on word of mouth to find Kari. What he hadn't counted on was the speculation that hit too close to home for his peace of fucking mind. Which meant that someone in his own club might have been flapping their lips when they shouldn't have. When Joel figured out who the sorry bastard was, he'd kill him with his bare hands. “Well, whoever the hell he is, he's
wrong
.”

“She must be some piece of ass for you to go to so much trouble to get her back,” Sawyer pointed out. “Plenty of pussy around that you don't have to chase after if you know what I mean.”

Joel fixed Sawyer with a caustic stare. He took a nervous step backward, and then another. Joel's temper got the better of him more times than not. And violence went hand in hand with his hotheaded nature. Sawyer was wise to keep his distance. One more word, and Joel was going to beat the ever-living fuck out of him.

“Who I want and why I want her is none of your—or anyone else's—fucking business,” Joel barked. “So unless you know where she is and are looking for that five-k reward, keep your goddamned mouth shut about her. Feel me?”

Sawyer gave a stiff nod of his head. He raked his fingers through his graying hair and let out a slow breath. “It's not me you've gotta worry about, man. It's Mendoza.”

And didn't he fucking know it.

“As soon as the heat from the feds is off of me, I'm outta here,” Joel said. “I'll be across the border and taking care of Mendoza's operation from the other side.”

Sawyer didn't miss the inflection in Joel's tone.
That's right, motherfucker, as soon as I'm set up in Mexico, you won't be shit with the cartel.
“No one's trying to step on your toes,” he replied. “We're all the same club. What's good for one charter is good for another.”

Sawyer could take all of that brotherhood bullshit and shove it up his ass. Joel was in it for the money, plain and simple. And he wanted as much of it as he could get his hands on.

“Let Mendoza know that we're ready for the shipment,” Joel said. “And tell him I'll be in touch soon.”

Sawyer took the cue that their conversation was over. He straddled his bike and the engine roared to life. “I'll let him know,” Sawyer called over the rumble of the pipes. “In the meantime, if anyone gets a bead on your old lady, we'll let you know.”

He gave Joel a knowing look as he pulled out of the turnout and back onto the highway. Cowardly piece of shit. He wouldn't have dared to bring Kari up again if he hadn't been about to drive off.

“He's bound to cause trouble if he doesn't shut his mouth,” Shorty said from behind him.

For the most part, the VP had kept quiet during their meeting. One of the reasons he was Joel's right hand. “He thinks he can run Mendoza's distribution operation,” Joel replied without turning to face the other man. “Heat's on me, so he's tryin' to move in.”

“Won't be for long, though.” Shorty's bike creaked with his weight.

Joel sure as hell hoped so. He'd been looking for Kari for a long damned time. She was the key to reclaiming his freedom. Finding her would secure his future. Without her, his life would be shit and he wasn't willing to live another day like he had over the past four years.

“Maybe.” Joel wasn't as optimistic as Shorty. Especially since the bitch had become a ghost. Not a damned trace of her anywhere. And the bounty he'd put on her wasn't a small one. Five thousand dollars was a lot of money just for information. If anybody connected to any of the MCs on the West Coast had seen her, he'd know about it by now. Had she moved to Siberia or some shit? The South fucking Pole? With every passing day, Joel grew more anxious about finding her. As the weeks turned to months, his temper mounted. The longer she stayed in hiding, the worse it would be for her.

When Joel found her, she was going to pay for every single day of it.

* * *

The drive to Brundage Mountain Ski Area was a harrowing one. The narrow, winding, snow-covered road went on for about ten endless miles before dumping Nick at the base of the mountain and a gaping parking lot. After last night, his surveillance of Livy made Nick feel dirty. As though he was no longer keeping tabs on her in a professional capacity. After you've shared a pizza and casual conversation with a lead, it felt more like stalking than surveillance. Especially when the lead was drop-dead gorgeous, quirky, funny, and made his stomach tie up into an unyielding knot.

Something didn't add up. He'd known it from the moment he laid eyes on her. Joel Meecum was forty-eight and about as rough as a backcountry dirt road. The man was a violent sociopath and likewise, he associated with the sort of people who fit the bill. Livy didn't strike Nick as the type of woman who'd be caught in the same room with a bunch of violent bikers, let alone one who'd date one.

Could their intel have been wrong?

So far, Livy had given away nothing that might indicate she had anything to hide. She followed a strict routine, though. Left for work and came home at almost the exact same time every day. She'd spent her days off at her house. In fact, aside from work and the grocery store, Nick had yet to see her venture out. He'd been in her house three more times in the past week and her cell hadn't rung once. Not even a text message. Her guarded behavior and lack of any friends, family, or other personal interactions threw up a red flag.

She had secrets and Nick wouldn't stop digging until he uncovered them.

He drove past the lower parking lot at the base of the mountain and headed farther up the road to park closer to the lodge. He killed the engine of the Tacoma and stuffed his cell in his pocket before he pulled a knit beanie over his head. He might not be packing skis around, but at least he looked the part. Besides, he wasn't planning to be anywhere near the slopes—where he assumed Livy would be—he just wanted to get a bead on her.

The mountain seemed pretty busy for a Friday. Nick figured that when you lived in a resort community, there was always an influx of vacationers no matter the day of the week or time of year, though. He made his way up the flights of stairs, past the first and second levels, to the third floor of the lodge. Nick took stock of the people around him, decked out in ski gear that had to cost upward of a thousand dollars and that didn't even include the actual skis.

Joel or any of his crew would stand out in this crowd. And with the ground being covered in snow for four months out of the year, the chances of the town gaining the attention of an MC would be slim. Really, Livy had chosen the perfect place to hide out.

Nick found a quiet table in the lodge next to a large picture window that faced the ski lifts and several steep runs. From his vantage point, he could watch the skiers and snowboarders speed down the hill on their way to the lifts as well as the people filtering out of the lodge. This far away, it would be tough to discern Livy in the group, especially with all of her snow gear on. But that's not why he was there. He wanted to know if she kept to herself at work as much as she did at home.

The question that burned like a cinder in Nick's gut was more than likely the one he wouldn't find an answer to, however. What in the hell had Livy's relationship with Joel been and why was she hiding out in a small Idaho town?

A single fugitive was harder to track than a pair. If she'd still been with Joel when he went on the run, he would've instructed Livy to take off and he would have met up with her later. The informant's story had painted a very different picture of Livy and Joel's relationship.

Livy was gorgeous enough to prompt any man to do whatever it took to keep her. Nick's heart rate kicked into gear just thinking about her warm complexion, long golden hair, and bright smile. There had to be more to it than unrequited love. Guys like Joel Meecum didn't pine over women. Especially when they were busy dodging a federal warrant.

“Mind if I sit?”

Nick looked up to find a woman smiling down at him. She wore the same black ski pants and blue coat with the Brundage Mountain logo that Livy wore along with an employee badge dangling from the zipper. The lodge had gotten busy since Nick had sat down and he was surprised to see that his was one of the only tables with a free chair left. It couldn't have worked out more perfectly. He smiled and held out a welcoming hand. “Go ahead.”

The woman shucked her coat and hung it from the back of the chair. She set down a steaming paper cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. “Spectating this morning? You should get out there, the powder is killer.”

“Oh, I'm not skiing,” Nick said with a laugh. “I'm waiting. My daughter has a lesson this morning. With um . . .” He paused as though trying to remember. “Livy, I think.”

“Great,” the woman—Nick checked her badge, Cori—said. “She's getting ready to take her group down the run one last time before they're done for the day. If you look over there”—she pointed to a smaller chair lift to the south—“you can see them getting off the lift for Easy Street.”

“Easy Street,” he said. “That's cute.”

“There's not much of a slope,” Cori said. “It's perfect for the little guys. And Livy is great with beginners.”

“Yeah,” Nick said. “She seems really nice. I guess she hasn't lived here long?”

“I'm not sure,” Cori said. “She's worked here longer than I have, though.”

“You guys probably see a lot of turnaround.” So far, Nick wasn't having much luck. If he could keep the conversation rolling though, he might glean some small bit of insight into Livy from her coworker.

“Oh yeah,” Cori replied. “I think the only person who's been here longer than Livy is Jane down in customer service. Not a lot of people have what it takes to get through one of our winters.” She laughed. “Are you here on vacation or do you live here?”