The Biker's Secret Torment: MC Romance: Talon (Rosesson Brothers) (7 page)

Three people turned in their papers and headed up the steps. I kept my eyes forward till they passed, then turned to look at my new friend. She had materialized a piece of paper from somewhere and was writing on it. She looked up at me several times as she did it, the sexy grin back on her face, her tongue making frequent appearances.

She stood up, her test in one hand, the piece of paper in the other and walked towards me, holding up the paper. I was just about to pluck it from her fingers and make it disappear when Crystal came up the steps and grabbed it instead. She hip-checked the brunette and watched her crash into the seat behind her. Everyone in the room turned to look at us.

"Sorry," Crystal spat out through clenched teeth at the brunette who looked stunned. "Let's go, Talon," she said to me. I stood, perplexed, helped the brunette to her feet and gave her a smile, then followed Crystal out into the hallway.

"Jesus, Gidget, what was that about?"

She ripped the tiny piece of paper in two and threw it on the ground, then turned to face me as the door we'd just walked through slammed shut behind us.

"You tell me, Talon. I thought you were here to protect me, not eye-fuck every slussy on campus.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Crystal had a mouth on her and when she got going she always made me laugh. Even when her tirade was turned on me, which happened more often than I wanted to remember.

She darted forward and pushed me, but her small frame didn't have a chance against my larger one. "Don't laugh at me, you big twat," she hissed, then whirled and took off down the hallway.

I shook my head. What was she learning at Stanford?
Worst insults 101
?
How to alienate your friends
? Why in the world was she so upset anyway?

Unless ...

She rammed through a door that led outside and I ran to keep up with her, pushing the thought away. Crystal wasn't interested in me. And even if she was, it could never work. Would never happen. Better not to think about it.

Talon

I followed Crystal into the sunshine and ran to get within six feet of her, then slowed and followed her at a distance. She'd cool down by the time we got to my bike, which I'd had to park almost a half mile away.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took it out. A text from Knox. I'd gone to him for help because I knew he had the connections, the resources, the know-how, to get more information than I had been able to. I read it quickly, cold sweat breaking out on my brow as an invisible hand grabbed me around the throat.

The building you wanted me to check into belongs to Christopher Daniel Santee of Rosemill, California. He acquired it in 1976 for one dollar. Probably a fake paper trail. Maybe it was given to him or he won it in a bet. He rented it to another company till 1982 when it was shut down by the government as a safety hazard. It's been empty ever since. He's paid taxes on it every year. I have a messenger delivering the deed, tax, and rental history to your clubhouse now. There's something else in there you should look at too. Not sure if its relevant.

My steps faltered as I tried to make sense of the message. Whip owned the building where we'd found and lost Jaze? He hadn't told me that. I tried to remember that night, how it had happened.

It had been late, almost three in the morning. We'd been at the clubhouse at a party that seemed to just be getting started. Whip had come out of his office and pulled me away from the three women who'd been trying to pull me and Rams into a five-some, mostly by pretending to cat-fight over who got to suck our dicks.

"Talon, I need your help." His voice had been quiet, and then he'd disappeared.

I'd followed him into an empty room. "Sure, Whip, anything."

"Something happened to Jaze."

He had my attention immediately. "What happened? Where is he?"

"I don't know." He sighed and sat down on the couch behind him, putting his head in his hands. "He had the late shift at the bar. Randy was there with him. Randy just called me and said they were jumped as they locked up. They knocked him out and left him in the dirt. When he woke up, Jaze was gone. They left a piece of paper with an address on it pinned to his cut. I want you to go with me."

All I'd said was, "Let's go." I'd wondered every day since then if things would have been different if I had insisted on going to the cops instead, or going in a show of force, instead of just him and me.

After the truck had disappeared with Jaze in it I'd freaked the fuck out. Whip and I had called in a team to fix our bikes, then ridden the neighborhood in circles looking for the truck for hours. I'd insisted he go to the cops then. He said he would, and I should keep riding. I'd ridden aimlessly through the city until I couldn't keep my eyes open. Had he acted strange? I recalled his words, his actions, his demeanor, but nothing jumped out at me.

He didn't get the club involved until the next day, and even then he only told a few people, enlisting their help with the search. He didn't want the prospects to know, or any of the newer, younger members, except me. I had been too fucked up to even ask why. Too fucking heartsick with what I thought I had done.

I looked up at Crystal ahead of me. I had to tell her. But not now. She would know by the end of the day.

We reached my Dyna and she slammed on her helmet, her face making it clear she was still pissed at me. But when I mounted up and she climbed on behind me, her hands wound around my waist whisper-soft and she pressed her body against me. Fuck. I hated riding with a stiffie.

"We good to get on the highway?" I asked. "Nothing you need to do or get before we go?"

"No, I'll come back with Dad and get my stuff in a couple of days."

Good enough. Within a few minutes we were on the road, the miles soothing me as they always did, even if my thoughts were a bit more jumbled than usual. With Crystal at my back, I couldn't help but wonder where my life was going. I loved the club. Loved everything about it. My real brothers were my family, but my brothers at the club were my life. They would always have my back in the same way my squad had my back in the army. Most people don't get that kind of support, that kind of dedication in their lives. But one thing I knew about the guys in the club, they didn't spend a lot of time thinking about the future. Even the younger guys. Even Rams. Even Jaze. They were happy to spend all day working on their bikes, hanging out with the guys until the girls showed up, drinking and smoking. That set me apart. Especially while I was in Mexico getting my leg fixed again. Was I really going to do nothing but hang out at the club for the rest of my life? Drink with the guys, party hard, and that was it? It didn't feel right to me, but I couldn't see anything in its place. The military had abandoned me. Given me a general discharge because I had lost my temper. These days I couldn't see more than ten minutes into the future either.

We made good time, hitting San Fran in under an hour, but traffic slowed us down on the Golden Gate bridge. I checked my mirrors and noticed a black van behind us. I'd seen it since Stanford, but hadn't thought too much of it. We were on a highway, all heading in the same direction. But in the almost-stopped traffic I could see the driver's face.

"Hey," I shouted to Crystal. "What eye did you get that guy in? Left or right?"

"Left," she called back and I felt her shudder against my back. "Why?"

Fuck.
"Did you actually get his eye?"

"I don't know. It might have been right below the eye."

"Don't look behind us. Use the mirror. There's a van back there that's been there since Stanford. I just saw the driver's face. He's got large sunglasses on but I can still tell he's got a bandage taped under his left eye. It might be on the eye."

I felt Crystal tense against me. She stretched her torso to see my mirror. Traffic began to move again, then stopped completely. "Do you see him?" I asked.

"Yeah." Her voice was small. "I don't know if that's him or not. It could be."

I memorized the plate on the van, then got out my cell phone and speed-dialed Whitey. I prayed I wouldn't need help, but just in case ...

Whitey didn't answer so I tried Rams, tapping my fingers on the phone. I watched the man in my mirror, imagining he was watching me right back.

Rams answered. "Hold on!" he called and I could hear the wind whipping past the phone speaker and the growl of his bike.

Traffic moved again, but slowly. I plugged in an earpiece and dropped the phone in my pocket.

"Hey Talon, how's Crystal?"

"Rams, we need help. We're on the Golden Gate Bridge, stuck in traffic and the guy who attacked Crystal might be behind us in a van."

"Jesus. Take off. You're on your bike, right?"

"I'm going to, but I can't see what's stopping us up ahead. If there's cops, I might not be able to get past."

"If there's cops, then you should be safe."

"Yeah, until we all pass together. Then what? Who's at the club?"

"Fuck, man, no-one. We're on a run up to Cloverdale. Everyone."

"What? What for?"

"Security for some guy's funeral."

"Who? What club?"

"Whitey didn't say. He said it was last minute and everyone had to go."

"Rams, if something goes down with this guy, we might be coming in hot. We need backup."

"Got it. I'll figure something out, Talon."

"Good man."

I hung up, my eyes still plastered on my mirror. "Hold on," I said. Crystal cinched her hands tighter around my waist. I eased the Dyna forward, between the two cars in front of me, watching the guy behind me for a reaction. Traffic was moving slowly, but picking up speed. I curled my fist, pressing the bike faster, until I couldn't see the van behind me anymore. I kept my speed down. Splitting lanes was dangerous with traffic at speed, and maybe more dangerous at a stand-still. I'd seen a buddy get plastered when a driver opened his door in stopped traffic, and another one trapped between two cars when someone tried to change lanes without seeing him. I was determined to get Crystal home in one piece.

We wound our way between the two lanes of cars. As we got closer to the north end of the bridge, traffic started moving freely again.

"Look," Crystal said, tapping my right arm. The road had opened up as the bridge fell away behind us. Two deer were grazing in the foliage on the other side of the guardrail. I nodded. They could have been what had stopped traffic.

I sped up, wanting to put as many cars between us and the guy in the van as possible. This side of the bridge tended to run a little lighter on witnesses.

We'd ridden hard for thirty minutes when I first saw the van behind us again, coming fast. We'd gotten off of the highway and were getting close to Rosemill. The road was only two lanes, with deep foliage and an occasional steep cliff on each side.

I cursed and patted Crystal's hand, gratified when she squeezed me tighter and suctioned herself to my back. She was a veteran double-rider, knowing exactly when to let her weight go completely, and when to shift it for balance. I watched the van in my mirror, my gut telling me things were bad and about to get worse.

Crystal

I trusted Talon with my life. My heart beat hard and adrenaline spilled into my veins as I realized I could be about to put that trust to the test. If this guy was following me, he was serious. He wouldn't try anything on the road though, would he? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the road was the perfect place. He could shoot us and be forty miles away before the police realized they didn't even have anything to go on.

I could feel the tension in Talon's body and it increased my own anxiety. I'd never seen Talon scared of anything. Even back in high school he'd always been the calm one, the grounded one, the strong one who was never rattled or frightened. When I found out he'd become a sniper in the Army, I hadn't been surprised at all. It suited his personality.

The bike roared beneath us as Talon urged it forward. He passed the car in front of us and I forced myself to relax, to not lean against the turn as he cornered. That would have been dangerous for both of us. If he laid the bike down at this speed road rash would be the least of our worries.

But I guess when you're dead you don't have worries.

I breathed deeply, wondering if something had spooked Talon, or if he had just decided we needed to be far away from that guy. A tunnel loomed ahead of us, and just before we entered it, I got my answer.

A flat crack sounded in the air and Talon swore, then increased our speed. The realization that it had been a gunshot ripped through my terrified brain. We were sitting ducks on this bike. Nowhere to hide. Our only chance was to beat him with speed.

We pulled ahead and I held on tight, trying not to squeeze Talon, trying not to do anything that would distract him from saving us. I'd been riding bikes double my whole life but I'd never had a ride like this before. My entire insides felt like hot liquid, sloshing madly, making my throat and belly clench.

Talon sped up even more and I began to pray. He flipped into oncoming traffic for a moment to pass the car ahead of us. Our front wheel barely missed a car by less than a foot and I stared into the wide, scared eyes of the driver for an instant. He looked like he had peed his pants, which is what I wanted to do.