Sly (5 page)

“There’s time,” he said. For as klutzy as he seemed when he first sidled up to me, Stuckey seemed pretty sure footed now. That was the first thing that raised an alarm in me. This wasn’t right. His eyes looked clear and his look was over familiar. He put a possessive hand on my arm and that did it for me. I needed to get the hell away from him but do it without too much of a scene. I wanted the right people to notice me, not everyone.
 

Then, as I took a step forward, the room seemed to grow darker and hazy. My head swam and felt heavier on my neck, my stomach roiled. My next step went sideways and Stuckey’s hand shot out to catch me. He pulled me close against him, his hand sliding down my side until it rested on my ass. I was having trouble picking my head up. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
 

“You little shit,” I said. “What’d you give me?” And
when
the hell had he given it to me? I’d turned my head once to catch my purse. It had been all the time he needed. Shit.
 

Stuckey just smiled. He turned me toward the door with Greg bringing up the rear. I felt my shoulders fall and my knees went weak. With each step I took, the ground felt like it was turning to quicksand. I had enough presence of mind to know I maybe had a few more seconds before I blacked out.
 

I dug my heels in and dropped down, slipping out of Greg and Stuckey’s grasp. With great effort, I managed to stand back up and I drew my right arm back. My swing was wild but made contact. I got a good one in on Stuckey’s or maybe it was Greg’s nose. I saw blood spurt and then a blanket of blackness dragged me down.
 

Chapter Five

Sly
 

September’s receipts at the Den looked good. Damn good. Colt hovered over my shoulder as I looked at the final tally. I let him sweat it for a second. It was too much fun not to. Six months ago he’d talked me into stocking craft beer and we were on the verge of becoming the largest distributor in Northern California.
 

“It’s good, Colt,” I said. His nervous pacing threatened to wear a hole in the carpet. “We’re gonna have the highest quarter earnings for the last three years. You were right. This one’s a money maker.”
 

He slapped his hands together. Tiny made a grumbling noise in the corner. Of all of us, Tiny was the biggest cheapskate. He hated to spend a buck even to make three. He scratched under his sling and I gave him a menacing look. “Our favorite nurse told you to leave that alone,” I said.
 

“You know what they say about blind squirrels,” Tiny countered, shooting a pissy look at Colt. Colt countered by flipping Tiny off. Then he took a different approach, crossed the room and took Tiny’s round cheeks between his hands. I barked out a laugh as Colt planted a wet one right between Tiny’s eyes.
 

“Knock it off, asshole,” Tiny said, but he was smiling.
 

“We needed this,” Colt said. He couldn’t be more right. The last couple of months had brought some turmoil that could have hit us in the bank accounts hard. Tiny had been shot right outside the Den. Thank God no one had been more seriously hurt and it had happened when the bar was closed. But word got around. We weren’t exactly a family joint, but this place thrived on the singles crowd. If women didn’t feel safe here, we were dead. So far, we hadn’t suffered too much from the bad PR and Colt’s marketing plan had helped save us on that score. He was good. Maybe too good for the role he served in the club. There might come a point soon where we might have to have a conversation on where best to use his talents. But, for now, with Dex gone, that could wait.
 

“Quitting time,” I said. “Let’s go out and celebrate.”
 

The door to my office swung open and Big John poked his head in. John was five foot four with a slight build. He was also one of the toughest sons of bitches I’d ever met. “Prez,” he said. “Sawyer told me to give you a heads up. There’s a chick out here he thinks came for you.”
 

I smiled and hooked my hands behind my head. “They all come for me, don’t they?”
 

Big John smirked and Colt coughed some asshole remark under his breath. Tiny just wheezed out a laugh. “Sawyer said you guys ran into her the other day, over at Benny’s.”
 

Heat flashed through me and the smile left my face as I shot a look to Colt. I nodded to Big John. “Thanks, man. I’ll be out in a second. Tell Sawyer to keep an eye on her and come get me if she tries to leave.”
 

The mention of Benny’s made me uneasy. I hadn’t learned anything new about who might have tampered with my bike. Benny couldn’t tell me how long his security cameras had been out and none of his employees had anything helpful to add about anyone snooping around. I had a friend in the sheriff’s department running some off-book background checks on everyone who worked for Benny in the last six months but so far nothing had turned up. We’d reached out to a few of our ally M.C.s and no one knew anything. The Pagano family had moved out of Green Bluff for good and I just had a gut sense they weren’t involved anyway. For now, I tended to trust it.
 

“Go ahead,” Colt said. “Like you said, it’s quitting time. Time for you to blow off some steam and celebrate my financial genius. Tell you what, first round’s on me.”
 

I stood up and gave Colt a good smack on the arm. Then I headed out into the bar. We were packed with a good Saturday night crowd. There was a fight on later, the undercard for which the club sponsored. This was our biggest money maker next to the Wolf Den. The Great Wolves Gym was now a nationwide chain and we had a few solid MMA fighters about to contend for a 21st Century Fighting League title.
 

But none of that interested me just at the moment. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the front of the bar. Sawyer was in the process of leaping over the bar one handed. The girl from Benny’s was in the middle of two guys and she didn’t look right. Her head lolled to the side. Then she started to go down.
 

Fuck.
 

I shoved three guys out of the way and upended a table before I got to her. Sawyer and I got there almost together with Colt right behind. The girl managed to land a wicked right hook on the bridge of one of the asshole’s noses before she went down. I caught her and pulled her out of the melee as Sawyer and Colt went to town on the guys who’d manhandled her. A couple of the patrons paused to look but not for more than a second. This was nothing more than a small curiosity. They were a hell of a lot more interested in the fight on the screen and everyone who knew me understood this would be over in about two seconds.
 

I let out a sharp whistle but the other bouncers were already in motion. One of the assholes tried to make a break for the front door but Colt dove for him and grabbed him around the knees. The guy fell down hard, smacking his chin. Damn. Colt could have a career in the cage if he ever got tired of dealing with beer distributors.
 

I held the girl in my arms. Her breathing was strong, but she was out cold. When I saw her the other day at Benny’s she’d been stunning. Tonight, it was like the air had left the room. Her thick hair hung straight down her back and brushed the floor, like a real-life Rapunzel. She’d traded her cutoff jeans for a red dress that hugged her curves and showed off her toned arms. She came into a place like this looking like that? Chum for sharks. That said, she didn’t deserve any of this. I felt sick thinking what might have happened if Sawyer hadn’t spotted her.
 

Her eyelids fluttered. She had thick lashes and a full, sexy mouth. She wore gold hoop earrings in her small, delicate ears and I had the urge to taste her there. Her chest heaved up and down and I couldn’t help it: my balls tightened a little as I watched her breathe. But, thank Christ, she
was
breathing. I got her on her feet and tried to help her stand. She took a wobbling
step forward then crumpled in my arms. I slid my arm under her knees and lifted her. She wasn’t completely out. She sighed and her head dropped against my shoulder.
 

Sawyer was at my side. “Sawyer,” I barked. “What’d you serve her?”
 

She slumped against me, her luscious curves pressed against my chest and it was all I could do to focus on the trouble at hand. Even half in the bag she pulled off sexy. Sawyer ran to the end of the bar.
 

“That was her second beer,” he said.
 

I didn’t like what I was hearing one bit. It didn’t add up for it to be affecting her this quick and this hard. Unless ...
 

“Son of a bitch. They fucking roofied her. Did you throw those guys out?”
 

Sawyer shook his head. “Colt and Big John took them into your office.”
 

I nodded and adjusted my weight to keep the girl from slipping out of my arms. “Good. Keep ’em there. Tell Colt he needs to get ’em to tell him what they gave her. If she doesn’t come around in a minute or two we need to call an ambulance.”
 

Seriously, fuck. We were starting to draw a crowd and it was the last thing I wanted. Shit like this and my clientele would find somewhere else to spend their money. I shot a look to Sawyer.
 

“On it,” he mouthed. He crossed the bar and opened the door next to my office that led to the upper apartments. Sawyer kept an eye out as I carried her up as fast as I could. Luckily the main event was just about to start on the big screens so most of the patrons had made their way to the back.
 

I heaved the girl’s limp body higher in my arms and got her up the stairs. Sawyer held the door open to one of the spare rooms. I didn’t live here, but I kept a room anyway. You never know when you’re going to need a safe place to hide out. I set the girl on the bed. She was upright but listing hard to the left. I snapped my fingers in front of her face. My heart raced. God, if those pricks did any serious damage, I was going to kill them.
 

“You with me, beautiful?”
 

She lifted her head. I snapped my fingers again. She had trouble keeping her neck straight but her eyes were on me.
 

“Mr. Cullah Cullinan.” Her words slurred but her eyes were focused. That was a damn good sign.
 

There was commotion at the door. Mo McGillivray stood in the doorway with her hands crossed in front of her. Mo was pretty much the club matriarch. She dated Charlie Brogan. Retired now, Charlie was the last of the Great Wolves originals. He’d founded the club with my uncle, Blackie Murphy. Mo, like most of the rest of us, was full-blooded Irish except she’d
actually grown up there. She’d survived Belfast in the sixties and seventies and there wasn’t a whole lot that shocked her or she couldn’t handle.
 

Mo came to kneel next to me and she put a gentle hand on the girl’s face. “You in there, dearie? You know where you are?”
 

Her pretty nose wrinkled as she took in Mo. Hell, even on a good day, that might give someone pause. Mo was four foot eleven in heels, had a shock of red ringlets framing her face and a high-pitched voice that never quite matched her drill-sergeant demeanor.
 

She looked from me to Mo then back again. She giggled. “Pack of wolves,” she answered before her head lolled back. I caught her just before she keeled over the edge of the bed.
 

“Get her feet up,” Mo said.
 

I picked her up again and laid her down on the bed. She looked up at me with a dreamy expression and I had the thought I wouldn’t mind waking up to that face under better circumstances. She arched her back as I settled her against the pillow and I couldn’t help but ogle her perfect, round tits. They were only about two inches from my face. The other day I thought they might be fake. But up close I knew they were the real deal.
 

“Ease up, ya beast.” Mo slugged me in the arm. She pushed me aside and got in the girl’s face. “Darlin’, you feel like going to the hospital or doing this the old-fashioned way?”
 

“Huh?” She tried to sit up but clutched at the sheets like she thought she might float off them.
 

“Get the bowl, Samuel,” Mo barked to me. She only called me by my real name when she wanted to brain me. Colt came back and he was already on it. He stood in the doorway with one of Mo’s big plastic salad bowls. He thrust it in her hand and Mo got a hand behind the girl’s neck.
 

“Your finger or mine, sweet cheeks?” Mo said. She had enough of her faculties to raise her brows in horror, then nod with understanding. She leaned over and stuck her finger down her throat. Mo patted her on the back. She wretched just once and that was all it took. Mo was ready with the bowl.
 

Things moved pretty quickly after that. Mo thumped her on the back again but she raised her head and nodded. “What’s your name, honey?”
 

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice raspy. “It’s Scarlett.”
 

Scarlett. It was perfect.
 

“Thatta girl,” Mo said. “You’ll be feeling right in no time. Now, we’re gonna get some broth in you. You wait here.”
 

Mo shot a withering stare at me. “Can I trust ye not to molest the girl for five minutes while I whip up my hangover soup?”
 

Mo’s hangover soup was legendary. None of us knew exactly what she put in it. Broth, for sure. And something she called “special vitamins.” I suspected it was part hair of the dog and God knows what else. But whatever it was she’d brought many a drunk biker around over the years. Scarlett was in good hands.
 

I raised my palm. “She’s safe, Mo. I’ll keep both feet on the floor.”
 

Mo raised a brow and put a hand on her hip. “I’m thinking you can get into a hell of a lot of trouble that way too unless you’re doing it wrong. I’ll have to trust you for the time being.”