Free

by Kristen Ashley

  It had stopped ringing by the time he got to where it was sitting on top of her purse on his kitchen counter.

  But he caught the screen that had three of the same notifications on it: Essence Missed Call.

  Shit, shit, fuck.

  He looked from it to see she was walking toward him in nothing but that dress and those boots, and he could not believe he was hoping this was just some hippie cock-blocking joke and this would be done in five minutes so they could say goodbye to his couch and he could take them right to his bed.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Essence,” he told her, handing her the phone when she stopped in front of him.

  Her expression showed nothing but concern as she bent her head and started swiping at her phone.

  “She fuck with you on dates?” he asked.

  “No way,” she whispered, put the phone to her ear and her attention to his face. “Essence?” Pause. “Wait. Slow down. A what?”

  Her gaze drifted away as all the color left her face.

  Rush growled and put a hand to her hip, using it to guide her to his body.

  Her eyes shot back to his. “Did you call the police?”

  “Fuck,” he clipped.

  “Okay. Good. Stay inside. Wait for them. You’re inside, yeah?”

  “Fuck,” he hissed, letting her go and twisting to grab her purse.

  “Right. Okay, honey. Right. Right. Essence, darling, slow down. Listen. Rush and I are coming.”

  And they were.

  He had her hand in one of his, her purse in his other, and he was dragging her to the back door.

  “We’ll be there as fast as we can. Stay inside until the police get there. Promise me?”

  They were out the back door and taking the steps down to the walk and they were doing it fast.

  “Okay. Be there soon.”

  He turned his head to look at her when he sensed her off the phone.

  “What?” he asked.

  “She heard a screech of tires.”

  He stopped them at his back gate and stared at her face.

  “A long honk,” she went on. “Another screech of tires. She looked outside, a car was taking off. But she saw something in the street. She went out.” She shook her head and then chanted, “Rush. Rush.”

  She was losing it, spasmodically pumping his hand hard.

  “Baby, get it out.”

  “She said it was a dead body. A woman.”

  “Fuck,” he bit, lifted the latch and yanked her through the gate.

  He did not wait for her to climb up into his truck.

  He lifted her ass into the seat and dropped her purse in her lap.

  Then he jogged around the hood and hauled himself in the other side.

  He had an arm on the back of her seat, looking over his shoulder, ready to back out before he put the truck in reverse.

  They’d hit 13th when she asked, “How freaked should I be a dead body was dumped in front of Essence’s house?”

  About as freaked as him.

  Which was to say pretty fucking freaked.

  Rush grabbed her hand and held tight. “Don’t freak until you know. It could be a coincidence.”

  “I’m not thinking it’s a coincidence.”

  He wasn’t either.

  “Essence told me she knew some Hell’s Angels. She got a bad element she hangs around?” he asked.

  “She told you she knows some Hell’s Angels?”

  “Yeah, when she was threatening me.”

  Her voice was rising. “How much did you two talk before you hit my house?”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “Answer the question, baby.”

  “Essence probably totally knows some Hell’s Angels because, hear her tell it, she’d party with just about anyone, back in the day and now. But they’d be devoted to her. Or as devoted as a Hell’s Angel could get to a being with a vagina.”

  Right.

  “That fake name you’re workin’ for Valenzuela under, it come with a fake address?” he asked.

  “Fake address. Fake social. Fake everything. Hank and Eddie set it up for me.”

  “How do you get paid?”

  “Direct deposit.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “In a bank account under Tallulah Monroe, Rush. I have a fake ID I used to open it. Got an ATM card. The whole thing. Outside me accessing that money personally, it isn’t linked to me at all.”

  He let out a breath and turned right on Speer.

  “Rush.”

  His name came out shaky.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he told her.

  “Rush.”

  Now it was trembling.

  He pulled her hand to his thigh and pressed deep. “It’s gonna be okay, honey.”

  He drove as fast as he could without freaking her out with too many lane changes.

  They hit the lights almost perfectly and were at her pad in fifteen minutes.

  And there were three squads already there, one uniform rolling crime-scene tape.

  The squads were blocking the body.

  He parked close to the bumper of one of the cop cars, got out, and another uniform yelled, “You can’t park there!”

  “She lives here!” he shouted back, jerking his head to Rebel.

  The cop’s eyes went that way, and such was the power of the dress, he froze and his face blanked for a second, probably so he could control himself from growing wood.

  Maybe Rush didn’t like that dress so much.

  He took long strides following Rebel who was racing up to the house.

  Essence was on the porch with another cop, garland still in her hair, but fortunately she was wearing some huge, gauzy, white hippie top that fell off her shoulder, bell bottom jeans and shoes with massive platforms.

  She still was tiny.

  Then Essence was in Rebel’s arms when Rebel made it to her and tucked her close.

  And Rush had to watch the cop on the porch transfix on her legs, his body jerking, totally fighting growing wood.

  Christ.

  Rush barely put a boot to the top step before Rebel was jerking Essence around his way and ordering, “Baby, find out who it is.”

  “He can’t go near the body, ma’am,” the cop said.

  She jerked Essence back toward the cop.

  “Nine months ago, a friend of mine was murdered,” she declared.

  “A friend of yours was murdered?” Essence breathed, her head tipped back, big eyes on Rebel.

  Scratch another talk about letting people in on their conversation list.

  Rebel ignored Essence and kept her attention on the cop. “Call Hank Nightingale and Eddie Chavez. Tell them what’s happened and that Rebel Stapleton lives here.”

  Understanding something serious just got more serious, the cop put his cop mask on, nodded, and started to take a step back.

  “And let my boyfriend take a look at the body,” she added. “Please.”

  Boyfriend.

  This was going fast.

  He didn’t give a shit.

  He looked at the cop.

  The cop jerked up his chin. “Not close.”

  Rush nodded, cut a glance to Rebel then turned and jogged down the steps.

  “I said it’s okay!” the cop shouted.

  Rush moved down the walk.

  It was on its side, at an awkward angle, maybe three feet from the curb.

  The back of the body was to him.

  It was a woman.

  She had hair the same color as Harrietta Turnbull.

  Shit.

  “Not close, bud,” a cop met him and warned.

  Eyes glued to the body, he nodded again, skirted it wide and came to a halt.

  He drew in a deep breath.

  He’d never met her in person. Just seen pictures.

  But he knew she didn’t live easy.

  She also didn’t die easy.

  She’d been beat to shit.

  But it was Turnbull.


  Turnbull dumped at Rebel’s.

  Which could mean Chew.

  Or Valenzuela.

  Goddamn it.

  He dug his phone out of his back pocket.

  “You know her?” the cop asked.

  He hit the buttons to call his dad.

  He looked at the cop as he put the ringing phone to his ear.

  “Her name was Harrietta Turnbull.”

  “Accidentally, I was a cock blocker!” Essence exclaimed.

  “Did that hippie granny just say she was a cock blocker?” Joker whispered.

  “I’m so sorry, Rush, I didn’t mean to be a cock blocker!” Essence cried.

  “Essence, it’s okay,” Rush murmured.

  “Cock blocking is never okay,” Shy muttered.

  “You two can shut up or I’m gonna knock your skulls together,” Hound growled.

  Joker grinned at his boots.

  Shy put his hands to his hips and pressed his lips together.

  Boz sneezed.

  Everyone looked at him.

  “What?” he asked. “I’m allergic to macramé.”

  “He’s allergic to hippies,” High murmured.

  “She’s a sweet old lady,” Snapper said.

  “She’s a cock blocker, nothin’ sweet about that,” Hop put in.

  “Are you men really fuckin’ jokin’ at a time like this?” Tack growled.

  “It’s okay, really, Mega Rush,” Essence declared. “It breaks the tension.”

  “Mega Rush?” Dog asked.

  “I’m Tack, Rush’s father,” Tack introduced himself . . . again.

  “Yes.” She looked him up and down. “Mega Rush,” Essence replied.

  “I think I love this woman,” Brick stated.

  “Can we actually talk about the dead body in the street?” Eddie asked irately. “Anyone mind we get back to that?”

  They were all in what Essence called her parlor, which was a room painted the color of the flesh of cooked salmon and stuffed full of shit. Some of it was plants, a lot of it macramé. And now, outside Essence curled protectively in Rebel’s arms on a sofa that was upholstered by someone who was obviously inspired by Russian nesting dolls, the room was stuffed full of men.

  Mostly Chaos with Hank and Eddie thrown in.

  “Does the make and model of that car or the description of the driver sound familiar to you, Rebel?” Hank asked.

  Rebel shook her head.

  “Taught you how to spot a tail, you been looking?” Hank kept on.

  Rebel nodded her head.

  “Nothing?” Hank pushed.

  “I’d tell you, Hank,” she said quietly. “Nothing.”

  Hank didn’t look pleased.

  Eddie took over.

  “The last few days, either of you see anyone around the house or the ’hood that you don’t know?” Eddie asked. “Anything suspicious, or weird?”

  “Eddie, you think I wouldn’t tell you if I noticed something like that?” Rebel asked back.

  “Woman, a long time ago I quit wondering what shit you’d get up to,” Eddie groused, never happy with another dead body, also obviously not happy that Rebel was caught up in more shit.

  On the other hand, his Chaos brothers looked at each other and it was clear they found this an admirable trait.

  “I wouldn’t put Essence in danger,” Rebel snapped.

  “That I believe,” Eddie muttered.

  “Anyone see anything?” Tack cut in to ask the detectives.

  Hank shook his head. “Canvass brought up a couple of neighbors that looked out at the last squeal of tires, but they didn’t see much more than Essence did. Gray Ford Taurus. Man with dark hair in his thirties or forties driving. Not much more than that to describe the driver. One caught a partial plate, so we might be able to track the car. But Chew has no cars registered to him, just a bike, and Valenzuela would not have his name or any of his dealings associated with a vehicle used for that.”

  “Turnbull killed elsewhere, we get a lead, it’ll be something from the results of the autopsy, if we’re lucky,” Eddie added.

  Hank turned to Rebel. “Your CI status is now officially revoked.”

  “Hank!” Rebel shouted, like she was going to protest.

  That made Rush cut his eyes down to her.

  “Babe,” he growled.

  Rebel looked to him then to Hank and stated, “For your information, I was gonna resign tomorrow.”

  “Well, now you’re gonna call in sick tomorrow and no show for the rest of your life,” Hank shot back.

  “You’re also going into Lee’s safe room,” Eddie declared and looked to Hank. “I’ll call him.”

  Uh.

  No.

  “She’s staying with me,” Rush announced before Rebel could blow, and he didn’t even look at her, but he felt she was about to do exactly that. He looked to Boz. “And you’re staying here.”

  Boz turned eyes that were beginning to get red at him. “Say what?”

  “Millie and me’ll take her in,” High offered.

  “I got her. I’ll take a Claritin,” Boz said then muttered, “Or seven.”

  “I’d put away my macramé, dear, but it’d take a year,” Essence said to Boz, clearly not having a problem with hosting a biker bodyguard. Also clearly deciding now was not the time to ask what the fuck was going on that bodies were being dumped outside her house necessitating her needing that bodyguard.

  “I’ll be good,” Boz told her and looked to Rush. “But I gotta hit home. Get another gun. Some ammo. A few more knives.”

  “And a boatload of Claritin,” Dog added.

  “Jesus,” Eddie mumbled.

  “And I want drive-bys,” Rush went on. “Chaos and cops. Boz’ll have Essence and the property, but I want to know if anyone has eyes on it and I want him to have backup.”

  “You know, Rebel girl, I never thought I’d say this, but at this point, I’ll be happy for some attention from the fuzz,” Essence whispered to Rebel.

  Rebel gave her a reassuring smile and touched her cheek then tipped her head back to look up at where Rush was standing right by where she was in the couch.

  “Can we talk?”

  He couldn’t read anything on her face, so he had no idea what this would bring, but he was in no mood for her to get stubborn or change her mind (again) and piss him off.

  He still nodded.

  She started to push up and he grabbed her hand to help her out of the couch.

  He kept hold of her hand as he guided her to the door.

  He did not miss his brothers catching Rebel’s hand held in his, particularly his father, but he ignored it and moved them into the foyer and out of eyeshot of the parlor.

  Rush turned to her, boots to boots, and tipped his head down to catch her eyes.

  Her head was back and she added a hand to his abs.

  She also didn’t fuck around.

  “I don’t want to be far away from Essence.”

  This was not a surprise.

  But it was a problem.

  First, someone dangerous knew she was a player in this game and decided to make certain she knew she’d been made. So, she was absolutely not safe.

  Second, he lived in Capitol Hill, Rebel lived in the Highlands, and that was not close.

  Third, it was him that was going to make her safe. So she was going to be with him.

  Fourth, her pad was not safe. It was tucked in an urban forest, and he wasn’t even sure Boz would have eyes on it from the house. He hadn’t noticed, but doubted, it had security. And even if he could be there with her, his place was a better bet because it wasn’t secluded, and he had a security system.

  And last, Essence wasn’t coming with them because he not only intended to keep Rebel safe, he intended to get in her pants and he wasn’t hip on doing that with a seventy-three-year-old flower child down the hall.

  “Boz’ll keep her safe,” he assured.

  Rebel shoved in at his stomach. “But—”

  H
e lifted his hand and wrapped his finger around the side of her neck, dipping his head so his face was closer to hers.

  “Chaos has got her.”

  She bit her lip, stared in his eyes, and nodded.

  That was easy.

  Thank fuck.

  Rush felt him before he arrived, turned his head and saw his dad approaching.

  So he dropped his hand from Rebel’s neck, but slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her front into the side of his front, his body partially turned toward Tack.

  His father showing at a body dump that happened on the street outside his woman’s house, this was not the meet he would have picked between his girl and his dad.

  But Rush had long since learned that life didn’t give you a lot of choice, so you just had to roll with it.

  He glanced beyond Tack to see members of Chaos moving into the foyer and looked back when his father started speaking.

  “Boz is takin’ off to get provisions. I’m gonna stay with Essence until he gets back,” Tack told him.

  He knew Rebel found this acceptable when her body relaxed into his.

  “Cool,” he muttered to his dad.

  Tack took in the hold Rush had on the woman at his side then looked at Rebel. “Wish we’d met under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, and he felt her relaxation didn’t last long.

  She was tightening up.

  “Get that outta your head, darlin’,” Tack said quietly.

  Rush looked from his dad down to Rebel.

  Shit.

  The heavy was hitting her face.

  “Baby,” he whispered.

  She tipped that face up to him.

  “Harrietta,” she whispered back.

  He turned so she was curled fully to his front.

  “She was playin’ two dangerous men against the middle,” Rush reminded her. “She should have run a long time ago, honey. It’s not her fault she got dead. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t playing with fire.”

  “It still sucks,” she replied.

  She was not wrong.

  “And they dumped her at Essence’s,” she continued.

  That sucked too.

  “This is good. It was a warning. And we’re gonna heed it,” he told her.

  “But Essence didn’t need to see that. Be dragged into this,” she returned.

  “I think Essence is a lot tougher than you know.”

  “She thinks she’s a fairy. That is, when she’s not practicing to be a belly dancer.”