Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (19 page)

I press ignore on my phone again. Holt has been calling me
nonstop and leaving voicemails. The memory of the expression on his face last
night flashes before my eyes. I recognize that it could have been a reflection
of my own—we both felt hurt and scared. But I can't allow myself to think about
him now. Can't allow myself to remember what he said, and how he defended
himself. I've already made myself far too vulnerable with him, and feelings
could get me killed now.

I watch a beam of light from the window crawl across the
wall. I fell asleep for a few hours last night in this chair, even in my
hyper-alert state. This morning, I got Elise's number from Grant, saying I
wanted to get a head start on party-planning. It was
clever, I think.
Her birthday is in a few weeks, and this won't get her involved in any way, and
I can use the same excuse with Grant to get him to meet me. I'd rather not say
anything over the phone. Maybe that's being paranoid, but clearly I haven't
been paranoid enough until now.

I allowed myself to turn the TV on but kept the volume
muted. I almost had a heart attack when my neighbor went down the hallway with
his dogs. Grant said he had a lot of forms to file but could meet me after
work. I suggested a plaza by the park. It always has people in it, milling
around from the restaurants and bars nearby, but it's open enough that I can
see people coming. God, I feel like some kind of spy, like I'm in a Jason
Bourne movie. Except he would be way better at all of this.

OK, almost time to leave to meet Grant. I get up stiffly and
wash my face and put on a clean pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt. I take my
smallest cross-body purse and swing it across my chest to allow for ease of
movement in case I need to run. I can't very well take this butcher knife with
me, so I grasp my keys hard in my palm and stick my largest one out between my
knuckles, like I've seen in self-defense classes.

My adrenaline builds as I stick my head out the door and
look both ways down the hallway before scurrying over to the stairwell. My
hands shake as I open the door—stairwells are always where bad things happen. I
yank open the door and look up and down, pausing to listen for breathing or
Fish's throat noise. Nothing. I decide to run. I leap down the stairs two at a
time and make it to the first floor landing and hop into the lobby. I brace
myself for the next stretch: the parking lot. Jesus, it's like a fucking
gauntlet of the most vulnerable places for women.

I look out of the front door and can see cars going by in
the low evening light, and a couple people walking by. No motorcycles. No signs
of Holt, Fish, or any of the rest of them. I push the door open and walk
quickly to my car, glancing around as I go. My adrenaline spikes and I struggle
to breathe as I near my car. I slide behind the wheel and shut the door behind
me and lock the doors. I take a deep breath that almost turns into a sob but I
blow the air out slowly to calm myself and turn on the engine.

I flip on my headlights as I pull out of the parking lot and
turn by the gas station where it all started. If I'd just gone out with Elise
that night… I jump in my seat as someone beeps at me. Fuck. What's their
problem? I'm driving normally. I glance nervously in my mirrors, checking for
any sign that I'm being followed. What if that was some kind of signal and
they're going to run me off the road?

I look up at the red light as I slow to a stop. It's less
than a ten minute drive to the plaza. I just have to make it 'til then. Maybe
Grant will be able to put things in motion from there and this will all be
over.

I start as the car just behind me beeps at me. Fuck! What's
going on? I tense as I see the driver pull back and then come around to my
driver's side and roll down his window. Should I run the red light to get away?
I peer into his window. I don't recognize him. He's pointing to the back of my
car, and he's saying something. I roll my window down a crack so I can hear
him.

"Your taillight's out! Right side!" he calls out.

"Oh. Oh, thanks!" I say. The light turns green and
he pulls away. Seriously? A busted taillight? I frown as I drive forward
through the intersection and begin to drum my thumbs nervously on my steering
wheel. If the last month has taught me anything, it's that there are no
coincidences. And a broken taillight, right now, seems pretty coincidental.

Maybe I should pull a U-turn at the next intersection. Or
maybe that's what they want. Maybe they're waiting for me back at the
stoplight. Holt would know.

My god, I'm still thinking of him as some kind of protector.
It's hard to so completely change the idea I had of him. My mind, and my heart,
still want to see him in a certain way.

I jerk my head up as I hear sirens wail behind me. Red
lights begin to flash across my dashboard. I was right. That taillight was no
coincidence.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Holt

I frown through the darkness as I watch the cop car pull up
behind Jo. I've been sitting on her since last night. I knew that now that she
can identify Fish, she's in danger. There was an emergency Hell Hounds meeting
called, but I wasn't there, because I knew Fish wouldn't be either. He's going
to go after Jo, and I have to stop him.

I've been calling her nonstop, trying to warn her. My
stomach dropped when I saw her apartment light was on. She shouldn't have gone
home. Fish knows where to find her. I didn't see him while I was there, but I
know he was around somewhere, keeping an eye on her movements.

The cop gets out of his car and walks up to the window.
Shit. It's Rich, our contact in the force. He must be using her taillight as an
excuse to pull her over. I bet Fish broke it in the middle of the night. Rich steps
back and I see her open her door and step out. Fuck, that's not good, but what
is she supposed to do? Start a police chase?

Rich and Jo walk to the rear of her car and he gestures at
the light. They talk a little more, and then he turns and heads back to his
car. She watches him leave for a moment, and then turns around herself and
heads back to her open driver's side door. I begin to relax when a flash of
white zooms by on my left. I almost lose my balance on my bike in surprise.
It's a white van, and it pulls up with a screech next to Jo. Rich calmly gets
into his car as Jo flies around in shock.

I gun my engine, but I'm too late. The van's side door
slides open and Fish jumps out. It looks like he stabs her with something—maybe
a syringe?—and she wobbles. His arms are around her and he tosses her like a
ragdoll into the van and climbs in after her. Son of a bitch. I'm just ten feet
away from the van's bumper, but I slow down and give it some room as it lurches
forward.

My knuckles turn white as I grip my handlebars and let a
couple cars pass me, putting a little distance between me and the van as the
cop car fades into my rear view mirror. I don't want to alert Fish to the fact
that I'm following him. He might freak out and do Jo right there in the van if
he thinks I might be able to stop him. I need to take him by surprise.

I keep back as much as I dare, watching Fish weave through
traffic calmly. He's not acting like someone who knows he's being watched. I
follow him through several intersections before he turns onto a quieter road
and I decide to switch off my headlight so he won't see the single light behind
him, a dead giveaway for a motorcycle. I know this road, and I think I also
know where he's headed. It runs parallel to the highway, ending in a small
wilderness preserve outside of town. The perfect place to dump a body.

As we drive on, the cars thin out even more until we're the
only ones around. I grit my teeth as I'm forced to drop back even further so he
won't be able to hear my engine. I wonder what he injected Jo with. Something
to make her easier to handle, probably, after the way she fought back last
night. I wonder if it would be better if she's completely unconscious right now,
so she can't experience the fear of being incapacitated in the back of the van.

Signs appear on the side of the road announcing the
preserve, but Fish bypasses the first access road. I wonder if I was wrong, if
he's headed somewhere else, but he slows down as the third one approaches.
Probably wanted somewhere as quiet as possible. I watch him turn in, and I
decide to pull over to the dirt shoulder. I can't risk pulling in behind him on
my bike. I kill my engine and hop off my bike. As I approach the trees to cut
through to the lot, I decide to take off my boots. They'll be too noisy, and
the woods are near silent at night.

I leave them on the grass just before the tree line and then
step as quietly as I can into the brush. Even from here, I can hear Fish
turning off the van and stepping onto the gravel. At least I have a lot of
experience moving through the woods—as I kid, it was always where I went to get
out of my house and away from my parents. I dart as quickly as I can between
the tall pines. I wish it had rained more recently; dry twigs and leaves are
crunching underfoot.

"Move!" I hear Fish yell at Jo, and pause to peer
toward them. The moon is full, but hidden behind a back of clouds, and I can
just see Jo stumble before Fish grabs her arm and pulls her upright. My
adrenaline spikes as I see that Fish has a shovel over his shoulder, and a fog
of fear and anger cloud my brain. The grim reality that he's going to kill her
out here hits me full force. I pull my semi out from the back of my jeans and
click the safety off before heading after them.

The only benefit to Jo's incapacitated state is that she's
making a lot of noise, tripping over roots as Fish pulls her along. I grimace
as I hear her emit a low moan. I wish I could tell her that I'm coming for her.

I miss my footing in the darkness and step down on a thick
twig. It snaps and I freeze.

"Shh!" Fish whispers to Jo, and looks around. I
duck into a crouch.

"Please…"

"Shut up!" he orders her. There's a silence that
feels like it stretches on for ten minutes, though it's probably less than one.
Finally, I hear them start moving again. I pause, letting them get a little
further away, before I start creeping after them.

Panic begins to seep under the edges of my brain, worming
its way into my thoughts. She's getting too far away. This is all my fault. I
could have told her the truth weeks ago and taken her away, somewhere safe
where Fish could never find her. It was stupid of me to think I could keep the
situation under control.

I hear a low cry and pause, listening.

"Kneel," I hear Fish say.

A wave of horror washes over me and I have to push my way
through it to get my legs to work. I'm too late. I don't care about noise now,
I just have to stop him.

I see his startled face as I launch into the small clearing.
With a flash of his crooked teeth, he grins at me and points his gun at Jo, who's
kneeling across from him. I throw myself into the air toward him and hear the
gun go off.

It feels like I've been speared to the ground by a white hot
poker. I land with a thud on the earth and the air is knocked out of me. I try
to push myself up, but my arms are like lead weights. I struggle to move my
head around, searching for Jo, but I can't see her, and my head rolls to a
stop.  

I stare up through the trees to the night sky. Western white
pine, looks like. The moon finds a hole in the clouds and silvery light streams
down for a moment onto the clearing.

A black shape moves above me. Jo. She's inches away but for
some reason I can barely hear her, though I think she is crying. Despair
crashes over me.
Jo, I failed you.

My body starts to shake and I'm helpless to stop it. A taste
of iron overwhelms my mouth. I dimly realize that's a bad sign. The bullet must
have struck an organ and now I'm bleeding internally. I feel Jo's hands
fumbling over my torso, trying to help me, trying to bring me back. I try to
speak, to tell her to run, but I cannot.

I know that I'm dying, and I can accept that. But I would
give anything to be able to save her.

Chapter Twenty-Three