“Only been in the apartment a week and you’re already thinking about moving? You could always move back home. We’ve got plenty of shelf space there now that your mother has dropped her insane crocheting hobby.”
“Is it really a hobby if she doesn’t actually learn it?” I asked.
“She learned a bit. Enough to make me that lopsided scarf for Christmas.”
“That was three years ago, Dad.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t really a hobby. She liked the yarn, and I wanted to see her smile. So sue me.”
“You set that bar high, Dad. Buying Mom stuff just to see her smile? Men can’t compete with that.”
“Don’t tell me you’re bringing men back to that apartment, young lady,” he said.
“Dad. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m going to date.”
“And dating means he takes you out somewhere. That doesn’t require him coming into the apartment.”
“Okay, Dad. Whatever you say,” I said with a grin. “So, how goes work? Any fun cases lately?” Even though I knew law wasn’t my real passion, I always loved hearing about my father’s cases. When I was younger, he would try and keep me out of it, but now that I was older he would talk to me about them as much as he was allowed to.
“Just the one I’ve been working on.”
“That one still? Haven’t you had that same case for, like, months now?”
“Almost five months, yes. But it’s a big one, and it requires the bulk of my attention.”
“What’s it about?” I asked. “Other than defending the undefendable.”
“Just dealing with some guys in a motorcycle gang.”
“Oh, sounds serious. Real bad boys, huh?” I asked.
“I don’t like that look in your eye.”
“I’m just teasing, Dad. Come on. What’s going on with them? What injustice is happening now?”
“We think another motorcycle club has tried to pin something on them. But we can’t prove it.”
“Ah, rival gangs. Sounds very modern Western-ish.”
“I don’t know what that means, but okay,” he said with a chuckle.
“Come on, tell me more. Is this rival gang full of a bunch of rabid beasts that are trying to overrun this poor little biker club you’re defending?”
“Not necessarily. It’s intricate and involved, but right now we’re trying to find proof that the rival club was involved in a particular situation.”
“So you’re trying to prove that this rival club tried to set your gang up,” I said.
“Not in so many words, but that’s the jist of it.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t that what you do? Defend the guys taking the fall for everything and find a way to root the real guys out?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. That’s essentially what we’re doing, but it’s taking a bit of side-stepping to get there.”
“Well, talk to me about it. Maybe I can help,” I said.
“Sweetheart, as much as I love your enthusiasm, I’ve got this. This is my job. I’ve been doing it for almost three decades. Now, let’s enjoy some nice lunch and leave all that talk behind us.”
There was something about the conversation that wasn’t sitting right with me. Usually, when I asked my father about cases, he knew the exact injustice that was taking place. Like the last case, he wrapped up. A gang member was poised to take the fall for a murder the head of the gang completed. That was it. And my father wasn’t hesitant in telling me what was happening. They were trying to pin a murder on a man that was innocent. Or the very first case I remember him telling me about. A man accused of abusing his daughter came to him and asked him for help. The man wasn’t innocent by any means. A drug dealer. Wrapped up in some gang wars. But he wasn’t guilty of abusing his daughter, and he proved that in court. The mother was trying to pin things on him to get full custody, and my father wasn’t having it.
My father was never shady when it came to the injustices he was trying to right.
But with this one, he was. And I didn’t know why.
“What are you ordering?” my father asked.
“Why won’t you tell me about the case?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, it’s complicated. It’s my longest-running case, and it’s still not over yet.”
“Never stopped you before,” I said.
“I told you. A motorcycle club is being framed for something they didn’t do.”
“What is it they didn’t do?” I asked.
“Harlow-”
“Me moving out doesn’t change our relationship, Dad. You can still be open with me. I can still be here for you.”
My father reached out and took my hand, swirling his thumb on top of my skin.
“I know, princess. I know I can be. You moving out has been a change for all of us. And when you were under our roof, I had no problems talking with you about these things. Because I could watch you and protect you in case things went haywire. But things aren’t going well for my case, and I have to look into avenues I haven’t had to before. And with you living away from home, I don’t want to take the chance that you could get wrapped up in this.”
“Can you at least tell me your game plan?” I asked. “How will you prove their innocence? Will they be okay?”
“Such a big heart,” my father said with a smile. “They’ll be fine. A little bit of smoke and mirrors, some circumstantial evidence, a few rumors tossed about to throw everyone off their scent. It’ll be okay. They’ll be okay. I promise.”
My father let go of my hand, but I couldn’t let go of what he was saying. Smoke and mirrors? Circumstantial evidence? That didn’t sound like my father at all. He worked with cold, hard facts. Concrete evidence. It was what made him so good. Defending the undefendable meant proving without a shadow of a doubt that they were not the ones involved.
But that didn’t sound like what my father was doing here. I couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder who it was sitting in front of me.
My phone vibrated in my purse while my father ordered us some lunch. I took it out and saw Fox’s number flash with a message on my phone. I smiled and muted the phone, my mind wafting back to him. How his body had felt against mine that morning. How his cock had filled me to the brim. How his body had taken control of mine and brought me to heights, I wanted to experience again.
Then, my mind wandered to his tattoos. The colors that covered his neck and his left arm. My mind ran back to the leather jacket I had slid off his shoulders. How worn and weathered it felt underneath my grasp as I tried to get him out of his clothes. Was it possible he was in a motorcycle club? He looked like a bad boy. He talked like a bad boy. Hell, I’d met him in a dive bar and taken a ride on his motorcycle.
Could his leather jacket have been one of those ones with a logo on it?
I hadn’t been paying attention to it, and now I wished I had. I had been more interested in the man that was wearing it instead of what that interesting man was wearing. The more I thought about Fox, the more panicked I became. I mean, how many motorcycle clubs could exist in one town?
Was it possible Fox was involved in this somehow?
My mind was running away from me. Of course, it wasn’t possible. He was a mechanic. He told me so. His bike was beat up and rusted over some. Probably the first and only bike he’d ever owned. If he was in a gang, wouldn’t he take more pride in something like that? A big, shiny bike that made lots of noise or something?
There was something that didn’t sit right with this lunch any longer, and I found my appetite disappearing.
“Enough about my work. How’s work going for you, princess?”
My father’s voice ripped me back to reality. I studied him closely, setting aside my emotions and reading him like I would most of my clients. His smile wasn’t quite reaching his eyes, and his body was very closed off. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands were in his lap. His leg was crossed over his knee, and his eyes were very alert. Even though this was suppose
d to be a relaxing lunch between a father and a daughter, my father was on his guard.
Panicked.
Worried.
Unsettled.
What the hell had my father gotten himself into? What in the world was he involved in?
And why did I still have the feeling that Fox was involved?
Chapter 17
Fox
I held the phone up to my ear, and Calais picked up on the first damn ring. I didn’t know what the fuck was about to happen, but I knew it wasn’t gonna be good. When someone was standing around their phone like that, it meant shit was getting real. It meant they were under some sort of pressure, and I had a sneaking suspicion that pressure was about to be transferred.
“‘Bout damn time you called,” Calais said.
“I was in a fucking meeting. What gives?” I asked.
“We need that shipment, and we need it now.”
“No payments have been transferred, I’m not pushing any new product until I pay rent and you give me the cash I’m due.”
“We can work that shit anytime. But my boys are good, and we need more shit to sell. You said you had this under control. Time to pay up.”
“We pay off this last round, then we’ll talk,” I said.
“You don’t call the shots, Fox.”
“And I don’t give out any new product until the last batch is paid off.”
What the fuck was this man thinking? Did he think I was an idiot? No one was gonna strong-arm me into more materials until the last batch was paid off. I should’ve had another two or three weeks to get shit rolling with another supplier. I should’ve had plenty of time than one fucking week to turn this shit around.
“You play by our rules. Don’t you forget that” Calais said.
“I’ve been playing by your rules for years, Calais. I’ve gotten you extra product every time my shit comes in. I’ve been faithful, I’ve been firm, and I’ve been consistent. You don’t get to uproar now that shit’s going sideways for the first damn time. I could rattle off plenty of times shit went haywire on your end, and you had to come to me begging for more fucking time.”
“I don’t fucking beg, Fox. We’ve had a change of bosses. I’m just doin’ what I’m asked.”
“I don’t give a shit who’s taking over what. I gave you a supply that should’ve lasted your boys a month. And here we are, a week into this transaction, and you’re wanting more? Well, I don’t fucking have more. Because I had two more weeks to get this shit on my end under control.”
“Not our fault you’re draggin’ your feet,” he said. “The DEA is sniffing around everywhere. You get that?”
“I’m very fucking aware of it, yes. Hence why we’re taking the precautionary measures, we are. People at Chester’s are laying low. Suppliers are slinking back into the shadows for now. I’ve got plans in motion to get the DEA out of this fucking town, but again. That shit takes-”
“Time. Got it. I don’t give a fuck, and neither does my damn boss. We need our next shipment now, or you’ll be paying a hard fucking price,” he said.
“Well, I don’t have shit to get you now. Like I said, I was supposed to have two more fucking weeks.”
“The DEA’s distracted with whatever shit they’re on right now, but if they keep pokin’ around, they’ll find reasons to chase us down, too. Two weeks will be too fucking late, Fox. This is shit you’ve roped us into.”
“Calais, we’ve been doing business on and off for years now. Yes, it’s ramped up in the past few months because of shit happening on my end, but that’s life. I didn’t bring the fucking DEA here. They just fucking came. Come on. Someone around you has gotta be reasonable.”
“All right. Fine. You wanna think we’re pals, then how about this? You don’t get us our shit on the next payment drop off, then you’ll see a wrath you didn’t think was possible.” I felt anger bubble up in my chest. This was the first time the KG9’s had the balls to threaten me. They were a small time gang with no serious firepower.
“The fuck does that mean? ‘Wrath’? From some dumbass player street gang? You’re full of shit, Calais. The KG9’s doesn’t have the balls to play on the field I inhabit, you asshole.”
“Maybe in your eyes, sure. You think that pretty little girl of yours will see it that way?” he asked.
I felt my blood run cold in my veins. Were they talking about Harlow? Holy fucking hell, were these assholes tracking me? Getting them another shipment wasn’t possible. The Road Rebels were in the process of halting and stopping all of the drugs we ran. We were offloading all the shit we did have, and I hadn’t had enough time to negotiate with some sort of outside supplier. Having the DEA in town was making everyone suspicious and jumpy, which meant Chester’s was fucking empty.
There was no one I could talk to for another few weeks about getting shipments of drugs to hand off to this player assholes.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I asked.
“She’s pretty. Got a nice ass. Those ruby red lips. Shit man. They’d look smooth around my cock. Red’s always been my color.”
“You stay the fuck away from her,” I said through gritted teeth.
“You play a tough guy real good, Fox. But tough guys don’t get attached to women and their pussies so early into the game. What’s it been? A few days with you guys? One decent lay, maybe?”
“If you harm one hair on that woman’s body, I will rip you limb from fucking limb.”
“You got one week to get us more shit. That’s the next drop off and expected rent payment. You don’t have it, then your little girl will find out what a real cock feels like,” he said.
Calais hung up the phone, and I was fuming. I turned my eyes towards the lodge and saw Talon and Hawk staring at me. Fuck. I’d just had that heated conversation in front of them. How the fuck was I gonna cover this up now?
I dialed Harlow’s number immediately, but it went to her voicemail. Ring after ring occurred as I continued to call her, with Hawk and Talon both approaching me. She was in trouble. I could feel it. Something was wrong, and I had to get to her. I had to make sure she was safe. Harlow was the link to getting us all out of the messes we’d woven for ourselves, and nothing could happen to her.
I wasn’t going to let the darkness of my life affect her like this.
“Fox, you good?” Talon asked.
“Was that Harlow?” Hawk asked.
“Nah. Just… my dad. He’s uh…”
I was getting fucking tired of lying to my club. Of lying to the only men, I’d ever considered real family. I had my dad, but he had his limits, especially now that he was in the nursing home. These were my brothers. Men I would die for. Men I would kill for. Men I would manipulate and steal and pillage for.
And I was fucking lying through my teeth to them.
“Why don’t you come inside? We’ll get ya a beer, and you can calm down. I’m sure your dad’s okay. He’s in a good facility,” Hawk said.
“I gotta go, guys, I’m sorry,” I said.
“Wait. Do you want someone to come with you? Hold on, Mac will probably want to go with you,” Talon said. I shook my head and stalked towards my bike.
“Fox! Stop! Come on! You can’t drive like this!” Hawk said.
I blocked out their voices as I threw my leg over my bike. The sun was shining high in the sky, beating down on my leather jacket and forcing sweat against my brow. I cranked up my rusted old bike and listened as Hawk’s, and Talon’s cries for me faded into the background. I could hear Calais’ words rattling through my head. I could hear the genuine nature of his threat. Harlow was in trouble because of me. Because of the bullshit choices I’d made because of my need for more money. I gritted my teeth as I soared down the road, breaking speed limits by the dozens of miles per hour just to get to her sooner.
If they had been watching me all this time, then that meant they were probably watching her.
Which meant wherever she was, she wasn’t alone.
I roar
ed into her apartment complex and started up the steps. I took them two by two, not wanting to waste any sort of time. I looked out over her complex and scanned the parking lot, looking for any signs of intruders. Any signs of the KG9’s that she was being watched. I stood there for a couple of minutes and watched some cars go by. Cars and vans creeping by, staring up at her place before they rode off.
They were fucking casing her apartment.
“Harlow! Open the door!”
I banged on her front door, trying to get her to open up.
“Harlow! It’s Fox. I need to see you!”
I banged on her door again, rattling it on its hinges. I pressed my ear to the door and heard nothing. No scuffling. No muffled screams. No talking or low voices or even snoring. I looked back out over the balcony and scanned the parking lot for her car, but I didn’t see it at all.
Was it possible she wasn’t here?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I leaned against her front door. I called Harlow again and rang straight to voicemail. I hung up and sent her a text message, telling her I needed her to call me back as soon as possible.
I thought about calling Talon. Filling him in before asking him to track her fucking phone.
How did this spin so far out of control? It wasn’t like this shit was new for me. I dipped into the outside world multiple times during our drug peddling days to get help and get more money for myself in the process. Those connections were supposed to help me during times like these. The good rapport I’d built with these assholes were supposed to get me through in these moments. When I didn’t have enough supply to divvy out or when we had to switch suppliers and postpone shipments.
Or in this case, when my club decided to fucking abandon the drugs altogether and set our sights on something else.
I should’ve given up the drugs. I should’ve not been so fucking greedy. I knew it was a fucking risk when I started, but the money was just too damn tempting. I ran my hands down my face, aching with every second that passed by. Where the fuck was Harlow? Was she at work? She couldn’t be at work, it was the weekend. Her office wasn’t open on the weekends, was it? Damn it. I didn’t know where she worked. I wondered if I could look it up. If I typed in her name on my phone, I bet it would bring up where she worked.
Fox (The Road Rebels MC Book 4) Page 10
