Losing It All

by Wilde, Kati

  But according to Blowback’s info, the doc doesn’t have a family. And I wouldn’t have blamed him for saving his own skin. But after comparing the relative shabbiness of his clinic to the grandeur of his house and the gleam of his car…obviously the incentive to help Papa had more to do with money.

  “You’re looking real angry, girl,” Stone tells me softly, parking the Honda in an adjacent lot. “You need me to take you into the backseat again?”

  A laugh huffs through the rage. Stakeouts have never been boring with him. And that backseat has gotten quite a bit of use the past couple of days.

  But I shake my head, angry tears blurring my vision. “I just want to go in there and scream at him. Just to ask why. Why why why was that fancy car worth more than Matt’s life? Or more than Crash’s and Lissa’s? Because do you see any sign that he’s being watched? Any of Papa’s security?”

  “No tails that I can see,” he says softly.

  And Stone would see them. Just like he spotted Victor and Hotel in the tavern that first night.

  “So at any time, he could have gone to the police. He could have asked for protection, and told them who Papa was, and freed all of us…but he never did. And I just don’t understand it.”

  “Because you’re a decent person, angel.” Stone turns in his seat, cupping my face, thumbs gently wiping away the tears. “And he’s a garbage person. It’s that simple. But here’s the good thing about that—we’ve got some options here. One is contacting Creek and letting him know we’ve identified this fucker. They’ll make a deal with him in trade for Papa, most likely, but it’ll take the rest of this out of your hands, except for when you’re in court. Second option is the original plan—sit tight, watch him, see if he leads us to Papa. Or maybe after watching him, if he doesn’t lead us anywhere, then I go and ask him a few questions. Which one you want to do?”

  “Original plan.” I draw a shuddering breath. “But it should be a team decision.”

  “I don’t figure you’ll ever be really safe until Papa’s dead, so I’d rather have him lead us to Papa, too.” His fingers tighten slightly, the intensity of his gaze sharpening. “But listen—this is the part where we start being real careful.”

  “I thought we were being careful.”

  “We were. But now real careful. The doc doesn’t know me but he might recognize you. So those big sunglasses go on and you don’t look his way if he’s outside. And you always had your hair brushed out all big in the barn, so now you keep it tied up or under a hat.”

  Biting my lip, I nod. Then narrow my eyes. “Are you making fun of my big nurse hair?”

  Stone grins. “Nah, girl. That big hair made me want to get my hands all tangled up in it while I was drilling into you from behind. I loved that hair.” With a tug at the braid I’m wearing now, he sobers a bit. “Even if we don’t pull Creek and the feds into this, we might soon want to pull in help from the Riders. Someone to watch the doc at night and also to watch our backs. If we stay low and don’t call any attention to ourselves, we oughta be all right for now. But Papa’s security took out the Iron Blood, and they are not fucking around. So if you ever start feeling uneasy or thinking for a second that you’ve been made, we get the fuck out of here. Yeah?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, my stomach roiling at the thought of him being hurt. And wondering if I should just call this off now.

  But I know it wouldn’t really change anything. Because Stone is determined to get Papa, too. He would just go it alone, instead. No team necessary, especially now that we’ve found the doc. He doesn’t need me for info anymore. I’m the one who needs him.

  So much.

  Stone must sense my worry, because he brushes his thumb over my lips, says in a reassuring voice, “It’ll be all right, angel. Finding the doc is a huge fucking leap closer to Papa. We’re getting there.”

  I know we are. So I should be feeling hopeful. Instead all I feel is terror and dread, because when it comes to believing that I’m getting somewhere, when it comes to being hopeful…my track record is pure shit. I was hopeful that Lissa would escape, and Tusk killed her. I was hopeful that my plan to slip laxatives to the guards would work, then Crash was killed. I was hopeful that we’d be able to rescue Matt…and discovered that he’d been killed.

  But it’s never me. It’s always the person I love.

  So instead of being hopeful now, I’m just terrified that I’ll lose Stone, too.

  37

  Maxine

  Two days later, Stone trades in the Honda for a blue Toyota and we switch up our pattern, doing a few drivebys past the doc’s house and his business, but parking at a long distance when we’re just waiting. We begin driving by his house at night, too—and I can see why Stone said we might want to bring in help. I’m getting more than eight hours of sleep between naps in the car and at the motel, but I’m still worn out. Even though I’m basically doing nothing except sitting on my ass, it’s as if the constant battle of hope and dread is wearing me down.

  The fourth night after we locate the doc, we drive past his house around midnight. I don’t see anything, but I sense Stone’s sudden tension, and know there’s something wrong when he asks me, “Did you leave anything back at the room?”

  “No.” We never do. Every day, we toss our packs into the trunk of the car. “What was it?”

  “The power to his security camera was out. Fuck. Tag Blowback, tell him to put in an anonymous tip that’ll make the cops check out the situation at Johnson’s house. Maybe it’s nothing, but I want to know.”

  But he’s not waiting around to find out. We drive to one of the big casino lots and leave the car, then take a casino shuttle to where he stored his bike at another lot.

  Minutes after that, we’re on the road home.

  * * *

  Snow stops us in Reno. It’s around eight in the morning when we get another room and tag Blowback again. Standing by one of the double beds, I watch Stone with my arms crossed and my pulse racing.

  “Fuck.” Jaw clenched, Stone shakes his head and puts away the phone before looking to me. “Gerald Johnson died of an apparent accidental overdose last night.”

  My heart drops. “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t know yet, except it wasn’t accidental.”

  So they killed him. Sour fear coats my tongue. “Do you think it’s because of us?”

  “Don’t know. Blowback’s good at covering his tracks, but it might be that digging around online tipped them off that someone was looking at Johnson, and they took him out just in case. Or it might have nothing to do with us and they killed him for another reason. But they’d have to work real fucking hard to connect those cars driving by his house to us and where we are now. So we’ll sit tight for a bit and rest up. You all right?”

  I nod. “I think so.”

  “Tired?”

  I shake my head. “Too wired.”

  “Yeah, you’ll crash soon. Come here.” He draws me in against his big body, kisses me hard. “You want me to wear you out?”

  I throw my arms around his neck. “God, yes.”

  * * *

  He wears me out so well. I can barely move later, lying in bed and half sprawled across his chest, feeling wonderfully sleepy and deliciously sore in all the right places…and my worry gone. But then, he always does this to me. I’ve spent so many days recently dreading and fearing the worst. Yet the second he touches me, it all goes away.

  “So what’s the plan now?” I ask drowsily.

  He kisses the top of my head. “Sleep.”

  “But after that?”

  “It’s supposed to stop snowing tonight. So we’ll try to get a flight out tomorrow morning and get our asses back to the ranch.”

  And back to the protection of the club. “What about your motorcycle?”

  “I’ll sort it out.”

  “Are we going to tell Creek about Gerald Johnson?”

  “Pretty sure Blowback already has. Because if Papa’s looking for us, but fe
deral agents hop right on Johnson’s death…maybe it’ll distract him and his security.”

  “Do you think he’s looking for us?”

  Frustration roughens his voice. “I don’t know.”

  And he obviously hates not knowing. “You said Blowback was good at covering his tracks. And we did a good job covering ours, too. Didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, we did.”

  But Stone must not be depending on that alone to keep us safe. His gun’s on the nightstand, within easy reach. And I have no doubt that he’s proficient with it. That he’s trained with weapons and knows exactly what he’s doing.

  But that might not save him.

  I sigh heavily. “I wish we were still back at the cabin, wallowing in your cum.”

  “Wallowing?” A laugh shakes his big body beneath mine. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t know about Matt yet,” I say and his laughter quiets, his arms tightening around me. “Do you know what I think about most?”

  “What’s that, angel?”

  “The way Victor did it. How it was such a waste of how hard Matt fought to get where he was. All that training, all that work. And in the end, he couldn’t do anything, because I’m the gun they’re holding to his head.” My throat constricts unbearably. “He deserved so much better than being forced to his knees and put down like a dog who couldn’t even bite back.”

  “Yeah, he did,” Stone says gruffly.

  My tears leak onto his shoulder. “Crash must have been so grateful to you.”

  He stiffens. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because that’s what he was going to do, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to fight you. He’d have refused and then the guards would have shot him. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yeah, it is.” His voice sounds raw, as if his throat’s burning like mine is.

  “It would have been the same as what happened to Matt. To save you, Crash wouldn’t have fought. Even though not fighting must have gone against everything he was. You gave him another way out, though. And I know…I know it hurt you so bad. But the Cage stole the dignity of every man who died in there—and you helped Crash keep his.”

  “Doesn’t feel like I did.”

  “I know. Just like you say that Matt would have been glad just to keep me safe. It doesn’t feel like that’s worth much.”

  “It is,” he tells me. “It’s everything.”

  “It must have been to Crash, too. To do the one thing he could that mattered. And that was saving you.”

  “Fuck.” His voice sounds so thick, and his arms wrap so tight around me. “Don’t wreck me like this, Maxine. Not while I’m naked and sober and supposed to be on guard.”

  I give a watery laugh against his skin. “Okay. Next time we’re drunk.”

  “Sounds good.” His mouth presses to my temple. “Sleep now.”

  I do. Throughout the day I’m vaguely aware of Stone sitting near the window, where he can see anyone coming or going without exposing himself. Watching over me. He smells like coffee and toothpaste when he begins kissing me gently awake, stretched out on the bed beside me and fully clothed.

  “You’ve been sleeping all day, girl,” he says while nuzzling my neck. “Let’s go out and get something to eat.”

  “Nah,” I say like he does. “I’ve got something real meaty to eat right here.”

  While he laughs, I push him onto his back, begin kissing my way down his shirt-covered chest. Then I hear the soft click of the door unlatching behind me, and feel his body stiffen—and there’s no thinking about what comes next. Before I even met this man, saving him is what I intended to do…but now it matters more than anything else could. Because Stone’s fast, but his gun’s on the nightstand and they’re already coming into the room. So I just need to give him that extra second so he can protect himself.

  Even as Stone tries to shove me aside, I throw myself across his chest. Behind me, it only sounds as if someone coughs twice, but it feels like two bricks slam into my back and shoulder before tearing through my skin and exploding. Then Stone’s got his weapon in hand and my ears are ringing from the gunfire. His heavy weight smothers me into the bed and then another muffled shot reaches my ears. In the next second he’s off me, and in the distance I hear tires screeching and shouts coming from other guests. But I can’t get up and can’t stop hurting.

  “Angel girl, no no.” Stone’s stricken face swims into view as he turns me over, and then pain nearly blinds me. Blood coats my tongue and I can barely breathe without choking. His hands are all over me, sitting me up and pressing into my back and everything goes distant as I’m carried away on a black wave of agony, except I hear him screaming “Help me!” and for someone to call a fucking ambulance and I would, I would call one, but I can’t.

  But I need to know I did enough. I have to spit blood out of my throat. “Saved…you?”

  “Yeah, girl. You saved me. And I’m sorry, this is going to hurt so fucking bad,” he says raggedly, and shoves something against my back and ties it with the sheet, his jaw locked and the muscles in his arms straining as he pulls the sheet tight tight tighter and it does hurt so fucking bad, agony shredding up and down my body, but I can only choke silently when I scream.

  He gathers me up against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but we’ve got to stop the bleeding. Ah fuck, angel. Why’d you do it? I can’t fucking…I can’t…” His voice breaks. “You didn’t owe me that. You hear? You don’t owe me anything. But especially not ever this.”

  “Not…payback.” Everything’s going numb. It doesn’t hurt so much now to talk, but I can barely draw a breath and each one I manage is thick and wet. “Couldn’t lose…someone else…I love.”

  “And I can’t bear losing you.” His forehead presses to mine, and he holds me so tight, his strong arms nearly crushing my back. “I love you, Maxine. So you can’t leave me. You can’t, because it’ll destroy me. So if you want to save me, you fucking fight to stay with me.”

  Okay, I mean to say.

  But I can’t when everything slips away.

  IV

  The Grave

  38

  Stone

  The ragged hole in me now is the size of those two bullet wounds that Papa’s men put in Maxine’s back. So fucking small. But big enough to kill me.

  “Stone!”

  I look up as Anna flings herself against my chest, holding on hard before sliding into the seat beside mine. Tears drip down her cheeks, and she grips my hands tight. “We heard on the news coming to the hospital. They didn’t give her name but said that a woman who was shot at a motel succumbed to her injuries…and I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  Gunner’s behind her, echoing, “So fucking sorry, brother.”

  Me, too. But not for that. And since it’s just the three of us in this waiting room, there’s no one to overhear when I tell them, “Maxine’s not dead. They’re just saying she is.”

  Anna and Gunner exchange a worried look. “The doctors are saying she is?” she asks carefully.

  “The feds. They’re going to write Christina Miller on the death certificate.” I swallow past the thick knot in my throat. “Maxine made it through surgery. They’re closing her up now.”

  “Oh, thank god,” Anna says softly. “So this is to throw that Papa person off her trail?”

  I nod, barely able to fucking breathe.

  “And she’s all right?” Gunner asks.

  “Not sure yet. Good chance.” But still a chance she won’t be. And until I know for sure, those two fucking holes are killing me.

  “That’s good, then.” Anna’s fingers squeeze mine. “Have you been here since they brought her in?”

  “Where the fuck else would I go?”

  “To piss, to breathe some fresh air, and get something to eat,” Gunner tells me. “It’s been about fourteen hours, brother, and you’re no good to her if you collapse on your feet. Take ten minutes with me. Anna can stay here. If there’s any updates from surgery, they can tell her
since she’s family, too. She’ll text us right away.”

  No good to her. That’s fucking true enough. But I need to be.

  I couldn’t choke down a bite right now, so I tell Gunner to fuck off when he suggests the cafeteria. Instead I head outside. The sun’s glaring up high and the snow’s melted—and I should have tried to get a flight out of here earlier. Should have done every goddamn thing different.

  “How’d they get a trace on you?”

  “They put a fucking tracker in her arm and told her it was birth control.” With a range that was weak as hell, so it wasn’t picked up while she was on the ranch, where we can’t even get a cell signal. “But it must have blipped in Vegas. Don’t know when. Maybe they picked it up right away and waited to see what we were doing. Or maybe it was recent, and they saw she’d been near Johnson’s house and business, so they tied off that loose end before coming after us.”

  “You never noticed anyone on your ass?”

  Chest aching, I shake my head.

  “Then they weren’t on your ass. You’d have noticed.” He frowns at me. “How’d you find out about the tracker here?”

  “They were scanning for bullet fragments and realized the thing in her arm wasn’t what it was supposed to be.”

  “Not birth control?” Gunner says and hesitates before asking, “Could she be pregnant, then?”

  “They checked. She isn’t.” And thank fucking Christ, with all the drugs they’ll be pumping into her after the surgery. I tilt my head back, and the sky’s so fucking bright, my eyes burning. “She threw herself in front of me. Took the bullets so I could get to my weapon.”