War-N-Wit, Inc. - The Coven (War-N-Wit, Inc. - Book 3)

by Roughton, Gail

  Chad took over. “The thing is, he’s not buried. Exactly. Is he?”

  “No. He’s in pieces. In the swamps by the Loop. Or he was. At first.”

  “At first?”

  “Baby girl. This is gator country.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “I was afraid you would.”

  “So what now?”

  “Now,” Chad chewed the inside of his lip a bit. I’d never seen him do that. “Now I think I need to do some cruising up and down Main Street. By myself. I think you girls need to have a leisurely afternoon. Work on your tans out by the pool. Walk the beach.”

  “And where would I fit into this peaceful little scenario?” asked Spike.

  “You stay with the girls, make sure they don’t get mistaken for Spring Break girls. Keep the predators at bay.”

  Fury coiled within and threatened to erupt from my skull. I wasn’t the only one. Spike exploded.

  “Fuck that shit, man. When hell freezes over. You’re not fooling anybody, Magic Man. You’re going cruising for Dark Rulers. Who already know you’re here! Don’t you give me that look, Ariel says they recognized you, then they recognized you, guess you’re not as different now as you thought you were. And you wanta go by yourself because you don’t wanta pull the respectable doctor into it! You think I’ve lost it, Chad? Can’t handle myself anymore? Shiiit. You don’t remember how I turned into Spike? Okay, you’ve saved my ass more than once. But I’ve saved yours a few times, too. You’re not cruising Main Street alone. Are we clear on this?”

  “The girls—”

  “Definitely do not need to be with us while we’re hunting. But they don’t need a babysitter at the pool, either! Damn, Chad, give ‘em some credit! They’re not little girls.”

  As one, Stacy and I raised on our tippy-toes and kissed Spike on opposite cheeks. “Thanks for noticin’,” Stacy said. “But since it’s established we’re not little girls, why can’t we go with—”

  “Because you’d put us all at risk, honey,” Spike said.

  “Spike, damn it—”

  “Chad. Don’t insult their intelligence. Tell ‘em the truth.”

  “He doesn’t have to.” I took over from Stacy. “Like you said, don’t insult our intelligence. They see us with you, we’re targets. Weak links. They saw us last night, but we coulda just been pick-ups. They see us with you today, that’d make us targets for sure. And y’all need to be concentrating on them, not us. We’ll stay at the hotel.”

  “Thank you. For not arguing.”

  “One condition.”

  “Knew it was too good to be true.”

  I whipped my phone back out. “Give me a contact number.”

  “A contact number?”

  “The agency. Whatever agency it is. For backup.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Sure you can. And you will.”

  Chapter Eight

  Stacy and I hopped off the Intimidator and the Dark Angel as soon as they roared back into the hotel parking lot.

  “Go!” I shouted over the revving engines and waved them off.

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Chad shouted back.

  I answered with my Medusa stare.

  “Okaaaay then,” he shouted. “No need to get nasty about it.”

  I felt nasty and I was glad. Because guess what? Rage blocked the mind connection. He couldn’t read me. And man, was he pissed. I could feel his frustration every time he hit the brick wall around my thoughts. Usually it took effort to block the other out. Not this time. And even better, I could still read him. Not because he wasn’t trying to block me out. Oh yeah, he was trying. To a certain extent, it worked. But not completely. He was too fragmented. Too many emotions, too many memories, raced through his brain to block me out entirely.

  Apparently they didn’t plan to pull out until they saw us head to the room, so I headed for the room. I cleared the steps onto the second floor before I saw them back out on the open road, headed into town. Stacy already had her cell phone out with the search engine in full search mode.

  “I’m thinking taxi,” she said. “Parking’s gonna be a bitch if we rent a car. Whatcha’ think?”

  “I think you’re a genius.”

  * * *

  Following instructions, the taxi pulled to a halt at the start of Main Street.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” the driver asked. “I can get you further down the street.”

  I looked at the parade of bikes moving maybe a tenth of a mile an hour, at the sidewalks and the bikes parked cheek-by-jowl.

  “Thanks, this is fine.” I handed over the fare with a generous tip and we hopped out and started walking down the sidewalk.

  “Okay, what now?”

  “Don’t know. Exactly. But I will. Be on the look-out.”

  “For them?”

  “For Micah.”

  “The cat?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know you could find out exactly where they are. You just have to connect to Chad, I know damn well you’re blocking him.”

  “Yep. Damn sure am. And he’s trying to block me but it ain’t workin’ real good. Got too much on his mind. But it’s working enough that I’m not reading him clear. Why don’t you see if you can connect to Spike? He’s so rattled by all this he’d either not notice or not believe it, think it was his imagination.”

  “Me? Connect with Spike? Why the hell you think I could do that?”

  “Oh, puleeezzeee!! Don’t even go there.”

  Her face reddened and she side-stepped neatly. “Why are you so mad at Chad? This past undercover thing—it was way before you ever met.”

  “Because he lied to me. To my face. Last night and today. He recognized those bikers. The Dark Rulers. Last night in the club. And he knew damn well they recognized him. We should have been back on the road this morning, headin’ home. Which we still could have done even after y’all’s little visit with the ghost biker. Especially after y’all’s little visit with the ghost biker. I didn’t even bother to suggest it, knew he wouldn’t consider it. Oh, no, brother biker’s dead, he’s chargin’ right on into the Dark Rulers, knowing damn well they’re on the look-out for him. Gotta have justice, though. Even if it kills him. Which this time, it just might.”

  “And you really think your cat’s goin’ to show up?”

  “My cat’s already shown up. And he’ll show up again. So be on the lookout. Now try and see where Spike is.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Bullshit. There’s an actual highway running between the two of you, for God’s sakes. Started out pale pink. Been crimson since last night. It actually pulses when y’all look at each other. ”

  She sighed. “Okay, let’s go in someplace for a soft drink and sit a minute. I’ve never had a connection before with anybody but you. I’ll need to concentrate.”

  * * *

  I sat across the table watching my little sister concentrate on this new connection of hers. I loved Spike myself. She couldn’t fall for a better man. But Vegas, damn it. Of course, with me being in south Georgia and her being in Macon, we were several hours apart anyway. But Vegas was damn near clear across the country. Handwriting was definitely on the wall about that, though, unless Spike decided to relocate.

  Stacy’s face settled into a blank expression, her eyes closed. She sat for a few moments and then opened them.

  “I don’t know, Ari. They’re moving in and out of the bars. And Spike’s so damn mad he’s ‘bout to bust a gasket himself. I don’t know why, exactly. Part of it’s what you said, that we should be on the road home, but there’s something else, too. Something deeper. From before. Really strong, but real mixed-up. I can’t get it.”

  I shrugged. “Well. We’ll just have stay alert till we do get it. Or see them. Let’s play Biker chicks. Cruise the shops.”

  We walked down the street, taking in the crowd. Black leather, tight denim, feathers, sweatbands, shaved heads, long hair, tattoos, body piercing. Bare bu
tt cheeks peeked out from short short cut-offs. Cleavage overflowed halter tops. Muscle shirts. Lots of muscles. Lots of used-to-be muscle that wasn’t quite anymore. Full mountain man beards, trimmed beards, scraggly beards. Head bandanas. Foot gear ran the gamut from flip-flops to biker boots to six inch platforms and/or spike heels. Pretty much what I’d expected at Biker’s Week. Can’t say as I expected what walked toward us, though, and I wasn’t about to risk accidental contact with that particular fashion accessory. I stepped back towards the shop fronts and pulled Stacy with me.

  “What?”

  I pointed.

  “No. Way.”

  “Way.”

  A tall biker came down the street toward us. Shoulder muscles rippled as he walked. The long length of the spotted boa constrictor wrapped around his neck rippled, too. The big head raised and lowered as it swayed back and forth, taking in the sights. Its tongue flicked out occasionally, tasting the air and any by-passer brave enough or drunk enough to pass close enough.

  Stacy stepped back even further, crowding the shop’s doorway, pulling me with her. The duo passed by. Almost. Just when I thought we were in the clear, its massive head swiveled toward us and its long body undulated. It bunched its muscles and lunged straight at us. The long tongue flicked. I cringed and cowered back. Not far enough, though. It got me square on the cheek, licking rapidly.

  Its owner grabbed it close to the head and pulled it back.

  “Cyrus! Where yo’ manners, boy?”

  Cyrus flicked his tongue harder.

  “’Scuse us, pretty ladies, but got to admit, the boy’s got good taste! You two mighty pretty things!” Cyrus lunged toward me again. “Cyrus! I said behave yo’self, now! ‘Course she tastes good, bound to, way she looks, but you just can’t go ‘round tasting all the ladies!” The biker reeled Cyrus in like the line on a fishing rod, waved cheerily, and continued on his way.

  I leaned my back against the store wall and slid down slowly all the way to the ground.

  “You okay?” Stacy knelt beside me. She grabbed my hands and rubbed them like she was reviving a shock victim. Mostly because I probably looked like one.

  “If I can sit a minute. Rubber knees.”

  “Guess I’ll let you get by with it this time.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’da died. Was it as icky as it looked?”

  “Actually, it felt like gettin’ licked by a happy puppy. Real soft tongue, like a human tongue, almost. Thank God, ‘cause I’da had a heart attack for sure if it felt as icky as it sounds.”

  “Meoooowww.”

  Micah rubbed against my thighs and paced impatiently back and forth across my lap.

  “So now you decide to show up. Where to, big boy?”

  He took off down the street, glancing back to make sure we were still behind.

  “What’s the deal with the cat, Ari? Give.”

  “Wish I knew. I just know he—shows up. When I need him.”

  I grabbed the hand Stacy extended to help me up and Micah darted on down the street, looking back to make sure we followed.

  We increased speed to keep up. Must be the heat and the press of the crowds. The after-shock from the snake smootch. Maybe I needed to eat. Nausea roiled up from the pit of my stomach and dark spots started dancing in my line of vision.

  “Ari!” Stacy’s voice was muffled, hitting my eardrums through some barrier that distorted and slowed the vibration of her voice. “Arrriii!” And then I didn’t hear her anymore. Because I wasn’t there. I was somewhere else.

  * * *

  It was night. I was on a motorcycle. A big one. Not as a passenger, as the sole rider. Riding with a pack. The pack pulled off the road and into a building. A warehouse. That was it. A warehouse. Somewhere. I didn’t know where. Sound echoed and bounced off the metal walls as the riders cut engines and dismounted.

  “Damn fine work tonight, men! ‘Specially from the Snowman! Celebration time!”

  A sound system blared. Heavy metal. Beer cans popped, liquor bottles splashed. Bodies gyrated in the center of the floor.

  “Snowman!” A huge bearded biker thrust a woman toward the rider called Snowman. “Here! You deserve the best tonight!”

  Snowman moved into my sight. Red hair and beard. Tight spiral curls halfway down his back. He grinned as the woman threw her arms around his neck and snaked her body up and down his. He didn’t like it but he did. He wasn’t one of them but he was. He was their brother. Except he wasn’t. Two men. Outlaw. Law enforcement. At war with each other, each vying for survival.

  “Doan min’ if I do.”

  * * *

  Nobody’s going to recognize me… ain’t nobody goan connect Chad Garrett’s voice wid’a Alabama Sno’man, darlin’, ya know whut I mean, c’mon back?

  I whispered. “Except they did.”

  “Ari, don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me!”

  Stacy shook my arm. I was sitting on a bench in front of a souvenir store.

  “You almost fell flat on the sidewalk! I barely got you over to the bench! What happened?”

  “A flashback. I think. But not mine. Chad’s. And it was them. At least, the woman. And one of the men.”

  “Who was them?”

  “The bikers in the jazz club last night. They did recognize him. I knew it.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Meeeooowwww!”

  Micah curled around our feet, displeased with the delay.

  “Well, excuse me to hell and back,” I said. “Hard to keep movin’ when you’re passin’ out.”

  “Hssssssssssssss!”

  I stood up and waved my hand in an “over to you” gesture.

  “Lead the way.”

  He tore off down the street. We took off after him in hot pursuit, trying to keep him in sight in the press of people. A crowd coming out of a restaurant cost us several seconds while we negotiated through them and when we emerged from the throng, he was gone.

  “Damn it! If he wants us to follow him so damn bad, he’s goin’ to have to make allowances for this freakin’ crowd!”

  “Don’t waste time complainin’,” Stacy said. “Just keep goin’. We’ll catch up with him.”

  There! Further down the street, almost to the next block. We put it in high gear. At least until the world went out of kilter again.

  * * *

  The Alabama Snowman—I couldn’t think of him as Chad—slouched in the corner of the dark parking lot, watching the doors. A roadside biker bar. I didn’t know where. The flashing neon sign, missing half its bulbs, spelled out “Hell on Wheels”.

  He had a cell phone to his ear. A relic from another time, a time when cell phones small enough to carry were just coming into common usage. Cell phones huge by today’s standards. A call he didn’t want to make. A call he couldn’t wait to make.

  “Highway 47. Mile marker 16. Tomorrow night, 0200 hours.”

  He paused and listened.

  “Just be there.”

  He pocketed the phone and walked toward Hell. Hell on Wheels.

  * * *

  “Ari!” Stacy was making a career out of shaking my arm. “At least this time you didn’t almost fall down. Where you been?”

  “Listenin’ to the Snowman set up the Dark Rulers. Something he didn’t want to do at all. Something he wanted to do more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. Where’s Micah, can you see him?”

  She pointed. Micah stood at the end of the block. He’d waited on us, but he sure hadn’t liked it.

  “Hssssssssssss!”

  “Not my fault,” I told him. “I’m doin’ the best I can.”

  He turned his head sideways and shot me a glare, clearly telling me my best wasn’t good enough before he moved on down the street.

  He stopped in front of one of the myriad bar-restaurants lining the street. Cyanide.

  “You’re kiddin’, right?”

  “Meeeooowww.” He didn’t budge. He turned in a circle and sat down in front of the doo
r.

  “We’re supposed to go in there?”

  “Meeooowww.”

  Stacy looked at the name on the window.

  “Lovely,” she said. “How appetizin’.”

  The door burst open before we could enter, spilling a mass of flailing arms and fists onto the sidewalk. Micah shot threw the opening and into the bar. I started after him and Stacy pulled me back.

  “Not a good idea,” she said.

  “Can’t help it,” I said. “Follow that cat!”

  * * *

  “Oh my God!” Stacy rushed across the room, pushing big biker bodies aside like rag dolls. Spike lay flat out on the floor, unconscious.

  In the pandemonium of flying fists and bodies, we knelt by Spike. Stacy cradled his head on her lap and tapped his cheeks.

  “Spike! Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

  I grabbed a glass of water from a neighboring table, miraculously still standing upright in the melee, and sprinkled droplets on his face.

  “Whhaaattt…” He bolted upright, coming from stupor into full consciousness in the space of a heartbeat. “Why that—owwww!” He rubbed the side of his head. I could see the knot already formed there. And wondered how hard a hit it took to knock Spike out.

  “What the hell happened? And where’s Chad?”

  “The son-of-a-bitch tried to ditch me! Like a freaking novice. Like a rookie. And when it didn’t work he cold-cocked me! Son-of-a-bitch!”

  “How ‘bout you cuss him out somewhere else?” Stacy suggested. “Like somewhere not here?”

  “Good idea, babe. By the way, I love you. And you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

  He raised his head and kissed her. As first kisses go, it wasn’t a real long one, circumstances being what they were and all, but considering it was in the middle of a bar brawl, not bad. Not bad at all.

  “Love you, too. Can you stand up?”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Can you stand up?”