Loaded

by KB Winters

  “I was too distracted by my own goddamn biases to realize that the pregnant teen and her brother served as the perfect distraction. My mind was on her, wondering if she was the woman we were looking for, or just another teenager gobbled up into an ancient system that didn’t fucking respect women. All of that. I was fucking thinking all of that, while they were setting us up.” He looked so damn despondent, so helpless and equally hopeless. His blue eyes had paled as he spoke and taken on a faraway look that broke my heart. “By the time I focused back on the present, chaos had taken over.”

  I listened to his story and his words stuck with me, they hit me, each and every one of them like a bunch of tiny little knives. The words that hurt the most were the ones that stuck with Wheeler, the way he thought about that day. “It must have been horrific for you, Wheeler. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too,” he grumbled, and I slid my mug of tea over to him. “Fat lot of fucking good it does me now though, with my whole crew dead and buried. Me here, barely alive and not even a whole man.”

  “That wasn’t your fault, Wheeler.” If he believed nothing else, I hoped he believed that. “Once you saw those kids on the side of the road, things could only play out the way they did.”

  “You can’t know that. You can’t fucking know that, AB.” His large hand smacked against the table, making me gasp in surprise. “You can’t know that,” he said, this time softer. Quieter. More resigned.

  “Not for sure, no. There’s no way to know things like this for certain, but I know those people had a plan and it was to distract you. Where you see it as a weakness, I see a strength. They used the one thing that we all know and admire about men like you.”

  “What’s that,” he asked, cynicism dripping from both sharp syllables.

  “That you’re a good man with a kind heart. That you wouldn’t hesitate to turn your attention to a teen mom and a little boy, to make sure they were all right, stranded in the middle of a war zone. They used that against you, Wheeler, and you couldn’t change that any more than you can choose your eye color.”

  His gaze said he was unconvinced. “Nice interpretation, Doc.”

  It was no use. Nothing I said would penetrate his thick skull and definitely not when his mind and heart were full of guilt, anger, and fear. I knew when to give up and go regroup, so I stood and rinsed my plate before setting it in the sink the way Martha preferred. I gave it once last shot before turning in.

  “It’s always how you interpret things, Wheeler. For example I could choose to see you as an asshole who used me to get pills. Instead, I choose to see you as a man in such tremendous pain that he didn’t care who he hurt to get what he needed. Because of those incredible orgasms, I’m not holding it against you.” I patted his shoulder, appreciating his dumbfounded look. “Get some sleep, pretty boy. You look terrible.”

  He let out a shocked grunt, but for once, Wheeler said nothing. I made my way back upstairs where I checked the window again and slid under the blankets and enjoyed a few more full hours of sleep before the thundering sound of motorcycle engines tore through the night air.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wheeler

  “Well?” It was a loaded question, but with everyone gone all damn night, I was a nervous wreck. I had to know what they found out. Instead of answering my question, Slayer and Saint grabbed food from plates and platters the moment Martha set them on the table. For her part, the housekeeper was fluttering around like the kitchen was on fire, whipping up food as fast as we could inhale it. The kitchen looked like a holiday with the table piled high with scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, fruit and for some strange reason, mac & cheese.

  “Well, goddammit?”

  Slayer stopped shoveling in his toast-bacon-scrambled eggs sandwich into his mouth and stared at me.

  “Well, what, Wheeler? If that’s even your real name,” he mumbled and went back to his fucking sandwich.

  “Asshole.” So he was still mad. They were all still mad about the secret I’d kept from them, and I understood that, even if I thought it was a secret I had every fucking right to keep. “Whatever.” If this was how it was gonna be from here on out, it was just fine with me. Just fucking fine.

  Cruz chose that moment to stroll into the kitchen with sleepy blue eyes and a wide smile on his face. He wrapped both arms around Martha’s plump form and smacked a kiss against her cheek.

  “Miss Martha, mac & cheese for breakfast? You beautiful woman, are you trying to get me to propose to you? Because I will.” Martha tittered like a woman half her age while her daughter, Evelyn, who’d been subdued since the death of her twin sister, merely snorted her disgust.

  “Get outta here, Cruz. I’m old enough to be your grandmother.” She swatted his arm and then his behind when he moved too quickly for her.

  “Maybe,” he told her laughing and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Or maybe I like my women aged, just like a fine wine.” Martha laughed again and dumped more eggs from an oversized skillet onto another big plate and took it to the table.

  “Martha’s too smart to fall for your lies, brother.” Saint’s words came out quiet, damn near inaudible, but sometimes, he opened up and became less withdrawn.

  Cruz sat down and piled a base layer of mac & cheese on his plate before adding the rest of the food Martha had laid out. “Martha is the only woman I’ll never lie to. She knows that.” He batted his eyelashes at her and again, the old woman blushed all the way down to her toes.

  “What a lucky gal,” Holden deadpanned from the far end of the table.

  Gunnar’s appearance sucked all the kidding and even some of the oxygen from the room. His boots smacked hard against the floor with every step, making it impossible to ignore him. “So what do we know?”

  I held back a grunt at the fact that the same goddamn question had gone unanswered when I asked. I was just as pissed off as they were, apparently, so I kept my fucking trap shut and listened. I could help find Peaches, that much was certain. Anything after that, well I guess we’d all just have to wait and see.

  “I talked to the old girls at the B&B over a plate of lemon and lavender cookies,” Slayer said, patting his flat belly at the memory. “They recall a man, not from around here, asking questions. They pegged him for a cop or PI but he matches Farnsworth’s description, which is to say fucking non-descript.”

  Saint nodded, talking around buttery toast. “Hazel said the same thing. A few of the guests last night mentioned that a PI had been asking questions.”

  Gunnar arched his brows, suspicion rolled off him. “The guests just happened to bring it up?”

  Saint sighed and rolled his eyes. “Some lady was hitting on Haze, and she was unaware.” He hesitated on that last word, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Gunnar and Slayer both leaned in, and I was sure he could feel Holden’s glare like a laser. “Anyway, she used the opportunity to her—to our—advantage and made up a story about how she thought some guy was hitting on her in town but it turns out he was a PI.”

  Slayer and Cruz both laughed. “Quick on her feet, that one,” Cruz said, proudly.

  “The women clocked his description, plain but good looking, and mentioned they’d all fallen for it too. That’s it.” Saint’s voice was firm, telling even Gunnar that he wouldn’t take any shit about Hazel getting the MC valuable intel. “Point is, he’s definitely living in town and asking a lot of vague questions.”

  Cruz chugged back a full mug of coffee and slammed it down with a grin. “Big Mac said he thought maybe squatters had taken up residence over at Early Healey’s place because Lorna the realtor hadn’t gotten the commission on it, and she’s the only realtor in town.” He rolled his eyes and I could only imagine how much time it took to get that information from the chatty old man. “He would’ve gone to check it out himself but after all that shit that’s been happening in Opey, he figured he’d just pass the info along.”

  “Mr. Non-descript didn’t ask one question about Peaches?”
That was the strangest fucking part of all. We all knew she was the target even before he’d brazenly come onto the ranch and took her, so why not get all the gossip from the people of Opey?

  A chorus of “No” went around the room, increasing the frustration by a factor of ten.

  “That is fucking weird,” Slayer growled and bit into a biscuit like it was a piece of raw meat. “Are we just wasting our time, man? Is this some psyops type shit?” His question was aimed at me, I realized after a long moment.

  “Could be, but I wouldn’t draw that much attention to myself. You get people talking, especially a certain type of people and eventually they’ll tell you what you want to hear.”

  “So they all probably told him bits and pieces about all of us? The ranch? The club? The MC?”

  I nodded at Gunnar’s rapid fire questions rather than repeat myself. “Ask Cruz what else he learned from Big Mac.”

  Cruz groaned. “Please, don’t. My brain is so full of who’s sneaking off at lunchtime with his secretary and so much gossip that goes on in this town. I won’t fucking do it.” He reached out and shoved a biscuit, sandwiching bacon and sausage into his mouth for good measure.

  “Point taken,” Gunnar grunted, still barely looking at me. “Slayer and Cruz, I want you to go check out Healey’s place just before sunset. Take a look around and leave your kuttes and bikes at home.”

  Both men nodded and I swear they barely resisted the urge to stand and salute, such was Gunnar’s pull on men.

  “Holden, you and Saint make sure the club is cleaned up and ready. You guys will work the club and keep an eye on things. Hazel too, since she’s so good at it.” His lips twitched which seemed to sooth Saint’s instantly ruffled feathers.

  Holden grunted at the idea of working the club again, but he knew it could be worse if he said anything. “I call bar,” he said loudly, gaze directed at Saint.

  “Fine by me.” The gleam in Saint’s eye said he was happy to roam the club and watch all the fucking and freakiness that went on inside those walls and dozens of rooms. “You can keep an eye and ear on Hazel.”

  “Lucky me,” he grunted and that seemed to ease some of the tension in the kitchen. We’d all been on the receiving end of Hazel’s harassment as I liked to call it. The woman had a knack for riling us up, for finding our buttons and pressing them until we cracked. Then she’d smile and laugh and say, see that wasn’t so bad was it? And the worst of it was? She was usually right.

  “See if Mitch is willing to pitch in too.” I didn’t know if that meant he trusted me to keep the girls safe on my own or if he planned to stick around to chaperone me.

  The back door smacked open and everyone drew their guns and aimed, instinctively. “Aspen,” Holden growled. “What the fuck?”

  “Sorry, babe” she heaved, out of breath with her hands in the air.

  “Guns down!” Holden’s growl was primal and we all holstered our pieces. “Babe, seriously?”

  She shrugged. “I woke up to get some water and when I checked the time, I saw your message. I figured this was a time is of the essence type deal and came right over.” Aspen strolled in, eyes on all the food at the table until she found an empty glass and a carafe of juice. She drank half a glass and leaned against the counter. “I found this last night when I was going through all the junk I cleaned from Ken’s old condo,” she said and held up a phone. “And this.” A thick red envelope.

  “What is it?” Gunnar’s impatience was palpable.

  Cruz snatched the phone from her hand and immediately began to mess around with it. “I’m not Peaches, but I’ll see if there’s anything I can find.”

  She handed the photos to Gunnar who looked at each one and passed it along. “Looks like Ken was doing some of his own recon.”

  When the photos made their way to me, I had to agree. “That’s a different Farnsworth, right?”

  “Holy shit,” was Cruz’s stunned reply. “How did I not see that shit?”

  Aspen nodded. “It’s like walking into a waiting room for an audition. Everyone looks exactly the same but slightly different.”

  “Yep. Most of the photos are of the current Farnsworth,” I confirmed.

  “And these here are of the asshole who came to the house when Maisie and I first got to the ranch.” Gunner said.

  I knew this wasn’t the time to bring it up, but Gunnar and Peaches had been tightlipped about their trip. “This have anything to do with what you found or didn’t find in New York?”

  Gunnar glared, but I knew he wouldn’t hold back. “We didn’t find jack shit. The place had been scrubbed, like ghost in the fucking night kind of scrubbed. No fingerprints or any trace that anyone had been there and everything was pristine like a model home.” He blew out a breath and took a big gulp of coffee. “Peaches did find something, but she refused to share it with me. Said it would put me in too much danger and maybe get her put in prison. Now I wished I’d fought her about it, dammit.”

  I had to snort at that. “We both know you could’ve fought until you were blue in the face, and she wouldn’t give in if she thought it would hurt you. Or the MC. But she’s not here, which means we need to go through her digital shit, all of it, to see if we can find anything that tells us any goddamn thing about why he took her and where.”

  Gunnar nodded. “Agreed, but not now. Later. Everyone get some goddamn rest and meet back here at six. I’m gonna sleep and spend some time with my little sister.”

  Everyone finished eating and dispersed to their separate homes, including me. I limped my way back to the bunkhouse to get this fucking leg off for a few hours.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Annabelle

  I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it just as well as I knew how to stop a gunshot wound from bleeding, yet I stood there on the other side of Wheeler’s door with my fist poised to knock. Only I didn’t knock, not yet. I sucked in a deep breath and reminded myself that Wheeler was a man who was suffering. Experiencing a type of pain most of us could never imagine, both mental and physical. Finally, I knocked. And waited.

  “Come in, Annabelle.” His reply was quiet and anguished.

  I opened the door and bit down on the inside of my jaw at the sight he made, lying on the bed shirtless with the sheet draped temptingly across his lower abdomen. “How did you know it was me?”

  His blue-eyed glance cut over to me, but the rest of him was stock-still. “The guys don’t knock, and Maisie knocks as she’s opening the door and letting herself in.” He shrugged. “Who else could it be?”

  So predictable. “Oh.” There was nothing to be said when a man called you predictable. Boring.

  “What’s up?” His gaze raked over my body, as strong as any caress.

  I had to suppress a shiver at the heat in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not great, Doc.” He grunted, and his skin was pale, coated in a sheen of sweat upon closer inspection. “Wanna give me something?”

  My shoulders sank at his words, even though they didn’t surprise. Maybe a small part me of hoped he was done with them or at least done asking me for them. “Do you need something, Wheeler?” If he wanted them, he’d have to ask outright this time. No more hinting and beating around the bush so he could hit me with the old ‘I never asked you for anything’ when it suited him.

  The blue in his eyes seemed to darken with every passing second until I could feel his every dirty thought skitter across my skin. “I need a lot AB. A whole lot.”

  “Like?” I asked, my voice and my body both vibrating with need.

  “For starters, you.” He reached out and pulled me, until I was on top of him and our bodies were completely aligned. “Stay right here,” he grunted. “I like the feel of you on me.”

  I snorted because we both knew that wasn’t true. “You’re in pain,” I insisted.

  He grinned and smacked my ass, gripping each cheek tight. “You’re gonna be my pain reliever, Annabelle.” Then his lips were on mine in slow, drugging kis
s that had my toes curling in my slippers. His lips were firm, insistent that they lead the dance he took us on. It was slow and sensual, a give and take of his lips and his tongue, giving me immense pleasure and then taking it all back, before giving it back five-fold.

  I tore my lips from his and sucked down a lot of air, chest heaving and my eyes wide because I could not believe that kiss had just happened. And because I wanted more of it. A whole lot more. “Dammit, Wheeler.”

  His deep chuckle vibrated my whole body until my toes curled once again, and I arched into him. “I know, AB. I find you irresistible too.”

  “You want me.” It wasn’t a question. I could feel just how much he wanted me pressing right up against the thin silk of my panties. I didn’t need him to want more or to pretend there was a possibility for more, because I wanted him. Badly.

  “I do, AB. So bad I want to taste it. All of it.” He licked his lips as they curved into a satisfied smile, and his hips flexed against mine.

  “Then I’m in charge,” I told him. I wanted him, but I didn’t want him to put that damn leg back on just so we both could get our freak on, so I stayed where I was and gazed down at him. “Don’t argue with me.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m naked under this sheet, AB.” His hands went to my hips and scraped up my waist to my breasts, squeezing and playing with my nipples until he tugged a cry from my lips. “That’s the sound I want to hear.” He squeezed again and this time I arched into his touch and moaned, again. “That sound hits me right in the cock.”

  His crude words brought a smile to my face. I continued to slid up and down the ridge of his cock, moaning as my panties grew wetter and wetter. “Wheeler.”

  “Fuck, Annabelle.” He gripped my hips and thrust against me until I screamed out my pleasure.

  I couldn’t take it anymore, I pulled back in sharp jerky motions, yanked down the sheet and fisted his cock, pumping up and down, hard until his hips thrust up against me. “Your cock always gets so hard for me, Wheeler.” His hips thrust again and I smiled, sliding my panties to the side and lowering myself on his impressive cock.