Hard Escape (Notus Motorcycle Club Book 2)

by Debra Kayn

  He picked up a spare helmet sitting on the filing cabinet and swung his arm out, wanting to smash it against the wall. Instead, he hit his fist against the top of the helmet and let out some of his frustration. Frustration with himself for taking in a stray woman and letting his dick make his decisions.

  Heidi had nothing to do with Notus Motorcycle Club. He wasn't obligated to help her.

  "I'm going." Glen turned toward Wayne. "You need me, you know where to find me."

  Wayne stood, and his phone rang. "Hold on."

  He waited, only because he could feel himself going off half-cocked. He wasn't going to run away from the information surrounding Heidi. She hadn't done anything wrong, and he wanted someone, anyone, to prove that she was real with him.

  "I'm going to give the phone to Glen. You can fill him in." Wayne stepped over to him and handed over the cell. "It's Gomez."

  He put the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

  "Wayne had me run a check on Heidi Lundin. Two nights ago, I was on a call to the Quimby apartment complex to serve eviction papers and escort the squatters out of the building. Ms. Lundin was one of the women staying there. We ran her through the system, and she had no priors or warrants out for her arrest and was free to go. The apartment wasn't in her name," said Gomez.

  "I already knew that." The pressure in his chest eased.

  "That happened the same night Notus found Alex Craine overdosed." Gomez paused. "It was a busy night in the emergency room."

  Glen looked around at his MC brothers. "Who else was brought in?"

  "A Jane Doe. She was in the apartment that Heidi was staying in. Unfortunately, she didn't make it and was DOA upon arrival to the hospital," said Gomez. "We're still trying to find a woman by the name of Doris Hinkle who was the one responsible for the apartment to try and identify the Jane. Because I wasn't the one who questioned Ms. Lundin at the scene, I didn't recognize her as one of the occupants when I was at your house. Is she still staying with you?"

  "Is she a suspect?" asked Glen.

  He refused to answer any questions until he understood the full story. As far as he could tell, Heidi was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She wasn't a heroin addict, and over the last two days, he could confidently swear that she wasn't a drug user. At least currently.

  "No." Gomez exhaled over the phone. "Because of the number of women in the apartment and finding no drugs on any of them, we can't hold them responsible. If there were only one or two friends with her and they refused to call for help, we could find them negligent. As it is, we don't know what went down before opening the door. It was more the good luck that we paid a professional visit per the manager and found the Jane. If we would've been there fifteen minutes earlier..."

  "I'll call you back." He handed the phone to Wayne.

  He walked over to the filing cabinet and picked up a bottle of whiskey on the top and took a long swig. Without even asking Heidi, he knew she'd never agreed to go to the police station and talk with Lieutenant Gomez.

  She was too defensive. Too closed off. Too independent.

  There had to be a reason for Heidi to be staying with him outside of their mutual attraction to each other and her being down on her luck.

  Chapter 10

  Clara and Gracie, identical twins, sat beside each other on the couch. Heidi sat on the edge of the chair across from them. Uncomfortable and embarrassed, she had no idea who the women were when Glen dropped her off inside and disappeared into the attached garage without any explanation.

  "Where do you work?" asked the twin on the right.

  Heidi picked at a hangnail. "Pauly's Peddlers."

  "Oh, that's the shop across from the bar." The woman smiled and pointed at her chest and over at her sister. "We own Vavoom's."

  "I haven't been there, yet." Heidi swallowed. "I've only worked at Pauly's for a week."

  Out of practice at holding a normal conversation, she had no idea what else to say. She had no home, no experience working, no social life, no common thread to the two women in the room.

  They were both beautiful women with long hair and makeup wearing clothes that were exciting and in style. Totally the opposite, Heidi sat in baggy second-hand clothes with a shaved head and no makeup feeling ugly and sorry for herself. A feeling she hated.

  "I bet you love working there. Pauly has always been friendly to us the few times we've talked with him. He cracks me up. Like a hippy from the seventies that refuses to grow up." The woman looked at her sister. "We've actually talked about renting bicycles and riding around St. John's, but we haven't had a chance yet."

  "Maybe next summer," said her sister, who appeared to be the quieter of the two.

  "There's an asphalted path along the Willamette River that goes north to the Columbia River." She inhaled her first comfortable breath since entering the house. "That's the most popular path for tourists or those new to bicycling. There's no traffic to worry about, except other bicyclists and walkers, of course."

  She'd learned a lot from listening to Pauly work with the customers, and she was an expert at staying away from the public. Under the St. John's bridge and around the port, clear down to Swan Island, were popular places to go when homeless.

  "I keep trying to convince Wayne we need a boat. We've lived here a year and haven't taken advantage of having the river close by like we should. Between the bar and Wayne's schedule with Notus, there's just never any time." The talkative one was Clara, who lived with Wayne, the president of Notus Motorcycle Club. She was also the twin on the right.

  Heidi would never remember who was who if they both stood.

  While nice, the twins were people she'd normally be friends with in her old life. They were sincere, hardworking women, and business owners.

  Warmth filled her face. She had no idea if they knew she was the woman who Glen caught trying to sleep in the alley behind their bar.

  A door opened in the house. Heidi looked across the living room where Glen had disappeared and found him walking back into the room. He caught her gaze. She stood too fast and got dizzy. Something was wrong.

  His eyes were narrowed in anger, and he held his arms stiff.

  Wayne passed Glen, and walked to the twins, putting his arm around Clara and whispering in her ear. The intimacy that passed between them afterward with one look left Heidi floundering. It was rare to witness a connection so intimate and strong, she suddenly felt more out of place.

  Glen reached her side and grabbed her hand. "Let's go."

  She held on tight. Not wanting to be rude, she looked at the twins. "It was nice to meet you both."

  "Nice to meet you, too, Heidi." The twins had stood while she joined Glen, and now she had no idea which one of them spoke.

  So, she smiled and then turned around and walked out the door with Glen. He squeezed her hand, pulling her along. She tugged, unable to escape his hold.

  "You're hurting my fingers." She stopped and nearly toppled forward because he wasn't listening and took another step. "Glen, what's wrong?"

  "It's time to go home." He loosened his grip without letting go of her.

  His whistling came sharp and fast as he hooked the helmet under her chin. She took the time to study his puckered lips practically hidden in his whiskers. A white line became visible on his upper lip in the sunshine. She raised her hand before thinking about what she was doing and touched the scar.

  He instantly stopped whistling.

  She'd noticed that he had the habit to whistle when he wasn't talking. It wasn't odd or neon-sign noticeable. It was a part of him. A quirk.

  Concentrating on his lips, she blurted, "You have a scar."

  He stilled. She raised her gaze from his mouth to his eyes, shocked that he was frowning at her.

  She hadn't been aware she was projecting her surprise onto her face for him to see. The whistling and his scar, well she'd connected the dots, and was curious.

  "What happened?" She ran her finger against his lip. It was an old scar. Soft and unn
oticeable when his mouth relaxed. It was only when he puckered to whistle could she see the repair of an old injury in the bright light.

  "I had surgery to fix a cleft lip when I was a couple of years old." He rubbed his lips together. "It fixed the lip and fucked up the muscle in my upper lip. It spasms with any sort of tension or movement from my mouth."

  "Except you don't have spasms when you whistle." The tension in her shoulders eased.

  "No," he said softly. "If I move my mouth, it stops the muscle."

  That little insight into the man named Glen Steele impacted her. He was not a normal man. Rough, physical rather than verbal, and conflicting. He was part of a motorcycle club and yet searched for missing persons. He was a paradox.

  Glen put on his helmet, sat the bike, and started the engine. She followed his instructions from earlier, and climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  Maybe it was because she was proud of herself for surviving a visit without making a fool of herself, or Glen's kisses from earlier still heated her skin, or because on the back of his motorcycle she felt safe and excited that she forgot to find out what had upset him at the house.

  For the first time in forever, she felt a connection to another person.

  He shared parts of himself with her, and instead of feeling guilty that she had to hold back and keep him from knowing more about her, she enjoyed the moment. It was because of that rare and intimate exchange, she looked into the window of the car stopped beside them at the stoplight and realized she was smiling, and the man in the driver's seat was familiar to her. And, that man stared back at her, striking fear right through her heart.

  She turned her head away from Evan and tightened her grip on Glen as the momentum of the bike shooting forward through the intersection pulled her back as if someone had knocked her legs out from under her.

  Maybe Evan wasn't sure it was her? Maybe with the helmet on, he wouldn't be able to recognize her. She swallowed hard. No, he'd found her.

  Glen sped forward. Sensing Evan riding beside them on the four-lane street, she laid her cheek against Glen's back. Her heart raced and her limbs locked around him.

  A car horn blasted the air three times in quick succession. Panic closed her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed. The engine of the car Evan drove revved, staying beside Glen's motorcycle.

  Glen's upper body straightened and his arm moved. Heidi grasped his vest in her hands and yanked. He couldn't stop. He had to keep going. Fast. Far away. If Evan caught her, she'd never survive.

  Evan honked again, laying on the horn. Glen's hand came back and squeezed her thigh. As he kept his hand on her, he slowed and pulled over to the side of the road.

  She lifted her head. "No, no. Go!"

  "Stay on the bike. I'm going to see what that asshole's problem is," said Glen, shouting over the engine of the motorcycle and toeing the kickstand.

  "Please, just go. Don't talk to him." Her vision blurred.

  Glen slid off the bike. She stared in horror at Evan's car—a different car than he'd had when she was living with him—stopping in front of Glen's motorcycle. She pushed off the seat, stumbled to her feet, and ran.

  Ran away from the nightmare of her past.

  Chapter 11

  The slipway lowered, bridging the gap between land and the cargo ship. Glen sat in one of the new cars set to be shipped to Germany. Third in line, he put the vehicle into first gear and crept forward, watching the traffic guide for directions.

  The hand motion came. He pulled onto the slipway and turned right onto the ship, going up to the top. Every twenty feet, another Port Loader's employee directed him to the empty parking spot squeezed between two other cars. Overshooting the spot, he put the car in reverse and backed the vehicle to within an inch of the railing.

  Wrapping his fingers around the edge of the door to protect the paint job, he squeezed out and jogged back to the ramp.

  "That's it, Steele. Note your cries. Whistles going to blow," yelled, McCormick, the foreman. "Grab Shaw and teach him to use the damn laptop while you're doing it."

  He raised his hand in acknowledgment and slowed to a walk. Every day, someone at Port Loaders ragged on Wayne to learn how to use the computer. None of the foremen or employees understood that Wayne had dyslexia. Despite every member of Notus urging Wayne to let the company know, he preferred to work around his problem. He never used it as an excuse, and if it weren't for the foremen, Wayne would sail through life without anyone knowing he struggled to read and write.

  Stopping at the office, Glen stepped inside, turned the laptop around on the counter, and inputted the VIN of the last vehicle he'd parked and noted the undercoating he'd put on before getting on the ship.

  Finished for the day, he clocked out and walked to his motorcycle as the air horn blew signaling the end of the shift.

  Chuck, Wayne, and Thad arrived in the parking lot less than a minute later. Glen put on his helmet, the urge to hurry hit him again as it had during each break and his half hour lunch.

  "I'm going to swing by Vavoom's. The twins are there." Wayne ripped the leather tie out of his hair.

  "It's Monday. The bar is closed." Chuck put on his Notus vest. "What's going on?"

  "They changed their delivery day to when the customers are gone. It makes it easier on them, and they can do inventory without any interruptions." Wayne sat on his motorcycle and grinned. "I can pour my own beer whether it's open or closed."

  "Hell, I can fill my mug, too. Want company?" Thad slid his sunglasses on.

  "Follow me." Wayne started the engine and rode out of the parking lot.

  Glen put on his vest and then rolled out behind the others. He was planning on going to Pauly's Peddlers anyway to find out why Heidi ran off yesterday. He'd spent hours riding the streets looking for her and had hoped she'd show up at his house with the reason why she'd run. But, she never showed back up.

  He thought they had something going on between them. The way she kissed and seemed eager. Then, he'd found out she had a fake identification and everything she'd told him was a lie. He'd be better off without her because she was trouble but damned if he could let go.

  He wanted to help her. There was something about her that he couldn't stop wanting to know more. He couldn't deny he wanted her, but his connection to her went deeper. Those damn blue eyes of hers had taken him for a trip. He went back and forth about what to do about her situation, and all he could focus on helping her. That if she got back on her feet, she'd let him be a part of her life, and not the lies she was fond of telling.

  Five minutes later, he backed his motorcycle up to the curb in front of Vavoom's and took off his helmet. Adrenaline filled him. He'd go over and talk to Heidi, then have a couple beers with the guys, and when Pauly's Peddlers closed, he'd take her home with him.

  After the shit she put him through after running off again, he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He'd throw her over his shoulder if he had to.

  "Hey, aren't you coming in?" said Wayne.

  Glen looked over his shoulder. "In a second. I need to go across the street."

  Wayne lifted his chin, opened the front door of the bar with his key, and led the others inside. Glen waited for a break in the traffic and jogged across the street. The bell rang on the door as he walked inside the shop.

  Halfway to the counter, Pauly looked up. "Glen Steele from Notus Motorcycle Club. Let me guess, you came back to pimp out your son's ride."

  "Not exactly." He rubbed his jaw. "I'm looking for Heidi. Could I speak with her for a second? I won't be long."

  Pauly rounded the counter with a frown and a grunt. "She's not here."

  "When will she be back?"

  Pauly shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. She was supposed to open the shop this morning, and she never showed up. I had customers waiting on the sidewalk at ten o'clock when I came in. If you have a question about the bike you purchased or need a part, I can help you from here on out. Unfortunately, because it's summ
er, I have employees on a month-long probation. One no-show or coming in late, they're gone. I have tons of high schoolers who would love to work while on break from school and will make sure they're here to work."

  He nodded, understanding Pauly's position. "Thank you for the information."

  As he left, he couldn't help the guilt that came with knowing he could be part of Heidi's problem. She was with him when she ran. He'd given her the opening to leave when he'd stopped to confront the driver trying to get his attention. But, her not showing up for work and leaving her backpack at his house was a different matter.

  Something was wrong.

  He walked back over to Vavoom's, filled a mug from the tap, and found a chair and sat with the other Notus members. Everyone looked at him.

  "Everything okay with Clara and Gracie?" Glen looked toward the back of the bar.

  Wayne nodded. "They're working on inventory."

  He drank his beer. The silence that came over everyone wasn't unusual. They were between searches and recovering from a physical job on a Monday. More than MC brothers, they were family. Having known each other since they were six years old, they knew everything about each other's lives. Moments of silence was comfortable rather than awkward.

  "What's going on with you?" asked Thad.

  He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. Nothing escaped the others. He couldn't keep Heidi to himself any longer. Not now, since she'd left.

  "Yesterday, coming home from Wayne's house and before I could talk to Heidi about what we found out about her fake I.D., she ran." He leaned back in his chair. "Pauly, across the street, said she never showed up for work this morning. The job was important to her. She needed to work to afford an apartment. I don't think she'd take off like that or do anything to lose her job unless something was wrong."

  "Running away and missing are two different things." Chuck rubbed his thumb through the dew on the outside of his mug. "She was homeless when you took her to your place."