Crush

by J. C. Emery

  “Wait. I’m supposed to set up this meeting now?” I ask. The safe house is where we’re keeping Michael for the time being. I’m not supposed to know that, or where it is, but the brothers aren’t so great at keeping their mouths shut outside of Church. The more I walk around with a confused look on my face, the more they think I’m either too distracted or too stupid to be listening in. Assholes.

  Duke hops to his feet, strides over to Nic, and kisses her cheek. “Don’t wait up, babe. Shit’s going down. Tell Eileen to run her own goddamn shop.” Then he turns to me and jerks his chin at the front door. Understanding the order, I make my way outside.

  Once he’s shut the door behind him, he turns to me with a serious expression. “We’re about to do some shit. Mancuso’s guys showed up at the safe house, so it’s probably going to get ugly. Grady’s called the full table, but Mancuso’s guy wants Jim alone.”

  I nod my head like I know what the hell he’s talking about before I realize that bullshitting could be dangerous. So instead of doing what I normally do and acting like I get it, I just ask him. “What does the full table mean?”

  “It means that Jim needs everybody to the safe house fully armed, so let’s go.”

  “We should probably leave the bikes at the clubhouse, then. Take one of the vans or the SUV.”

  Duke slaps my face lightly and forces a tight smile to his face. “Good. You do pay attention. I need you fully armed.”

  “I got my piece,” I say and reach behind my back, lightly patting the holster that the gun Trigger gave me rests in.

  “No, I mean serious fire power, not that piece of shit.” He just shakes his head and starts walking to his bike but stops when my cell starts ringing.

  Quickly, I yank it out of my pocket and check the caller ID. It reads PRES. My thumb slides over the answer button on the screen, and I bring the phone to my ear.

  “Prospect,” I say. It’s stupid, but Trigger gave me the order to answer my phone that way, and I’m not inclined to piss him off any more than I already do.

  “We got trouble. Need you to check on Sweets and Bean,” Jim says solemnly on the other end of the line. “They’re MIA.”

  “Apartment, coffee shop, and high school. Anywhere else?”

  “Not unless you get a lead. See what you find out and then call Knuck.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m on it.” The line goes dead, and before I shove the phone back in my pocket, I check the time. It’s well after four, so I doubt Holly will still be at work. Walking up to Duke, I lower my voice so that I’m not broadcasting club business to my nosy fucking neighbors.

  “Change of plans. Pres says Sweets and Bean are MIA.”

  “Fuck,” he shouts. Angry veins pop out of the sides of his neck as he stomps his heavy boot into the ground in a move that tells me he and Ryan have known one another far too long. “What the fuck is wrong with this fucking club that we can’t keep track of a few goddamn women in a town this fucking small!”

  I stay silent for a moment before I realize he’s still grunting and screeching so loud that our neighbors are starting to take notice. It might be a bad idea, but I lean in and whisper-shout, “Dude. I get it, but we have an audience.”

  “Fuck you,” he yells. His narrowed eyes travel from my face to the grass. He takes a few deep breaths, still obviously seething, and stomps off to his bike.

  I don’t wait for my orders and head for my bike as well. He takes off toward the club house, and I head the opposite direction toward the girls’ apartment. The coffee shop is closer, but the way Knuck feels about Holly, she takes priority. My hands shake the closer I get to the apartment, and my palms make my grip on my handlebars almost too slick to ride without eating dirt. But I can’t slow down. Knuck needs Holly, and I need my patch—and if I fuck this up, ain’t nobody getting what they need.

  CHAPTER 3

  November

  17 months to Mancuso’s downfall

  Standing in the middle of Holly and Mindy’s living room with pieces of splintered wood around me, I’m suddenly nervous that Grady’s order to “stay put” didn’t mean busting into the place. When I called him a few minutes ago to give him the bad news that I can’t find the girls anywhere, he hung up before I could clarify what his order meant. So really this is his fault.

  I step over the shards of what used to be part of the front door and its frame and head into the small kitchen. Everything looks normal in here, and until I broke in, the place was secure. So, at the very least, there wasn’t anything violent going on here from what I can tell.

  Leaving the kitchen and heading down the hallway, I first check out Holly’s room. Her bed is messy, and clothes are piled in the corners, but it’s not too bad. A beige bra sits on the edge of her bed, distracting me. It’s nothing really sexy, but I’ve been thinking about motorboating her tits for a while now.

  Before I find something else to check out, I dart out of the room and into the bathroom, then Mindy’s room. Nothing appears out of place until I notice the tipped-over nail polish bottle on her nightstand. The bright pink polish is half-dried on the wooden surface and has dripped down the side, creating a colorful blob on the carpet.

  Shit.

  I have no fucking clue what I’m doing anymore. I pull out my phone and try to dial Grady again, but he doesn’t answer. Calling Jim turns out to be useless, and so does calling Duke. Finally I decide to check the shop once more and hope to find Mindy there and totally clueless as to why I’m freaking out.

  My boots scrape at the concrete curb as I rush across the street and up onto the sidewalk at the corner of Main and Laurel on my way to Universal Grounds for the second time this afternoon. The first time I was here, Nic’s bitch boss was at the counter. With Bean nowhere in sight, I hopped back on my bike and rushed to the high school. On my way, I found Sweets’s and Bean’s cars in the drug store parking lot just a few blocks from their apartment. The doors were all unlocked, and there was nothing in Mindy’s trunk or the back of Holly’s Jeep. Not a single sign of struggle and, thankfully, no fucking blood. The spilled nail polish in the apartment tells me the cars were dumped there. I sent Duke a quick text about the cars and then was back on my way to the high school. I didn’t find shit there.

  Only Margot was in the office, and she went off, bitching at me about missing classes and this apparent problem people have with my attitude, which is total bullshit. I’m a fucking peach to be around. But whatever. After she shut the fuck up, I got it out of her that Holly got a call and then ran out to take her lunch and hadn’t returned since. She was supposed to be off half an hour ago. The fucking busybody wanted to know if she was in trouble—or causing trouble—and if I saw her first that I could let her know she’s on thin ice at work. I can’t be concerned with whether or not Sweets has a job after today. It’s not like the club is going to let her get fired. But so what if she does? Grady can keep her comfortable. But again, none of this shit matters if I don’t fucking find her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  In a matter of seconds, I’m in front of the coffee house. My lungs strain for breath that’s not coming as easily as I need it to. Getting that call from Jim has fucked me up big time. Out of all the guys and the prospects, he called me. And it’s not like he called me for some bullshit errand.

  I know a little about what’s going on with the club. Enough to know that shit ain’t right around town right now, but not enough to feel like I have my footing. Grady and Duke have both given me the rundown about the Italian who showed up at my school and gave Chey and Holly some shit about the club, but I have a funny feeling that I don’t have a clue how real shit is about to get. But this? Holly means something to Grady, which means she means something to the club—whether she likes it or not. It’s bad news—bad fucking news—for any of our women to be this vulnerable. That’s one thing Dad always made sure I understood—we protect our women. Always.

  Through the dirty window pane, I can see Nic. Stupid woman directly disobeyed her old man’s orders. Fuckin
g A. She’s wearing one of her tight strappy tank tops that shows off Duke’s good work. She started showing a while ago, and it seems like she’s just getting bigger every week. I don’t really know how pregnancy works. I mean, I know how it happens. I’m not that stupid. But as for how this shit works while the kid is baking, I’m at a loss. All I know is that she’s not fitting into her clothes anymore, but she wears them anyway. Her face is relaxed as she rings up a customer at the register and then gets to work on their coffee. I don’t want to fuck up her day, but I don’t have any more time to waste.

  Just as a customer opens the front door and the overhead bells chimes, I slide in, completely ignoring the customer who is next in line. I lean against the counter, still struggling for air and say, “You seen Sweets or Bean?”

  Nic’s eyes travel over to mine, and she purses her lips. She narrows her gaze as she works on the drink at hand, and it’s only when she’s done that she looks my way. Irritation radiates off her as she says, “No. Miss Perky Face never showed up for her shift. I’m fucking tired, and I think I’m going to barf at some point. I wasn’t even supposed to be here today.”

  And just like that, the bitchy sister I don’t miss and kind of fear makes her return. I knew the last few months were too good to be true. She was all in love and shit and acting happy. I was almost worried this baby business had resulted in a personality lobotomy. But nope. She-Demon is apparently alive and well.

  “Speaking of that—your old man told you to stay home,” I say loudly and hope she knows I’m using my Forsaken voice—the one where I talk a little deeper and with more purpose.

  “That’s not what I heard,” she says and shifts her eyes across the counter with a raised brow and a dismissive tone. She knows damn well what he meant, but fucking typical Nic. She don’t care.

  The customer at the counter clears his throat behind me and grumbles, “Can I get some help, please?”

  Nic takes a deep breath and puffs her cheeks out, like a squirrel who’s hoarding for winter, and then blows it out. I’m getting antsy with every wasted second. My neck cranes in the customer’s direction. He’s a middle-aged man with a distended gut and a button-up that doesn’t stretch well enough to fit his midsection. He taps his leather wallet on the counter top impatiently like he’s the most important fucking person in the room.

  He’s not.

  “Hang on a minute, buddy,” Nic snaps at him. Her eyes flit to mine. “And for the record, I can’t abandon Eileen, because somebody made me leave work so many times I’m on thin ice as it is.”

  “Don’t blame me because you’re unprepared for motherhood,” I gripe. Her left nostril lifts in irritation. “But seriously, I need to find them. Like now. It’s important.”

  “Come on. I’m running late to a meeting,” he says. He pauses before continuing, but he doesn’t get the rest of his complaint out.

  “Step off,” I yell as I close the distance between him and me. I’m not looking for a scene any bigger than we’re already making, so I do him a favor and give him a foot of space. “You think you’re late now? Keep fucking talking.”

  He backs up from me, his eyes flicking to my leather vest, and heads for the door. I don’t bother discouraging his exit. I’ve wasted enough goddamn time in here.

  “Shit.” Nic walks around the counter, gets close, and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

  “That visitor from New York?” I say in a whisper-shout. “In town. Had some trouble. Jim’s got reason to think that’s why nobody can find Bean or Sweets.”

  “Great,” she grumbles. Her bitchy mood is slowly sinking into a quiet fear. I’m not a fan of Bitchy Nic, but I’m even less excited to see Sad Nic. “Tell me if you find Minds, ’kay?”

  “Sure,” I say and head for the door.

  “Boy,” a voice shouts from behind me. I turn around to find an old dude who’s staring at me from a nearby table. He’s got a newspaper opened up before him and a mostly empty mug of coffee in his right hand. Giving me a slight nod, he says, “You looking for the Mercer girls?”

  “Yeah,” I say. This guy is clearly a local with how he’s made himself at home in the shop and the way he’s addressed me. Tourists are usually pretty easy to spot. “Who are you?”

  “He’s kidding, right?” he asks. The old man’s look transforms into disbelief as he redirects his attention to my sister.

  “He’s an idiot,” she states.

  “I own the hardware store your dad used to take you to all the time. Every time you left, my store was a candy bar lighter than when you came in.”

  “Oh, hey.” Now I remember him. Dad was always taking me to get shit for the house. It was either paint or new cabinet door knobs or other shit Mom wanted for her showplace. Dad would get to buying stuff for the house, and I’d get to deciding which candy bar I wanted to shove in my back pocket on the way out. “Huh, thought I didn’t get caught.”

  “Your father’s a good man. He always paid for the candy you thought you were stealing.”

  What a dick. Makes me want to go in there now and lift something and see what the fuck he does about it.

  “Listen. I get that you want to walk down memory lane while you still can, but I ain’t got time for this shit. You know where Holly and Mindy are or not?”

  He narrows his eyes and studies me for a moment before pursing his lips and saying, “About an hour ago I was closing the shop for the night when I saw them getting into a black sedan outside their apartment. Fancy car.”

  “Goddamn it,” I yell and cover my eyes with my hand. Mancuso’s guy has them for sure. Given the threat Grady got from the Italian, I got no doubt. “Nic, I need to get you to Jim’s.”

  “I’m in the middle of a shift.” Stubborn Nic is making an appearance, which makes me want to toss her ass in a trunk. Darren was surprisingly easy to move, so Nic can’t be any harder. “I’m fine here.”

  “No, you’re not protected,” I say.

  “She’s fine, son,” the old man says. The more I look at him, the more I remember about him. I dropped a hammer on this dude’s toe when I was a kid. Dad calls him Old Man Hill, if I remember right. He nods slowly and pats the front pocket of his khakis. He pulls out a handgun just enough to show me the butt of it and then slides it back in. “I’m old, but I know when something’s wrong. I’ll keep an eye on your sister until her old man shows up to take her home.”

  “You even know how to use that thing, Grandpa?”

  “Forsaken aren’t the only ones who know how to take care of their shit,” he says and lifts his chin.

  “Need your help, sis,” I say and stride up beside her. Leaning down just slightly, I whisper into her ear. “Knuck told me to stay at the apartment.”

  “Call Duke,” she says with a nod of her head. “Grady will be pissed you disobeyed his order for a little while, but the guys might need you at the safe house.”

  I lean in and place a kiss on her forehead and then dart out the door. Outside on the street, I call Duke.

  “Where the fuck are you, boy?”

  “Girls are MIA, and Knuck gave me orders to stay put,” I say as quickly as I can.

  “Fuck that,” he says. “Get up here. I know your nosy ass knows how to get here. Get Nic’s car from the house and park far enough away that I can’t hear you pull up. I’m about a mile up from the highway. You’ll spot Fish by Ruby’s Suburban.”

  I had a feeling he knew I’d figured out where the safe house is. Shit, but now’s not the time to think over what that means.

  “Yes, sir,” I say automatically. Before I think better of it, the words fly out of my mouth. “Nic went in to the shop after all. Claims she didn’t hear the order to stay home. Old Man Hill’s got a piece, and he’s keeping an eye on her.”

  “Fucking hell. She never fucking listens. Good that she’s with him, though,” is all Duke says before he hangs up the phone. I guess he knows something about the guy that I don’t.

  Back inside the shop, I cut off another custome
r—this one a woman—and level Nic with a glare. “Need your keys.”

  “Why?”

  “Duke’s orders,” I say. She gives them up easily, but detaches the small ring with her house keys before tossing them my way. On my way out the door I shout, “Stay with Old Man Hill, or it’ll be your hide.”

  CHAPTER 4

  November

  17 months to Mancuso’s downfall

  The drive to the safe house is no more than fifteen minutes on my bike—not that I’ve timed it—but it takes over twenty in Nic’s car. There aren’t many speed traps in town, but once you get to the outskirts, along the highway, the highway patrol sits around with donuts around their dicks just waiting for some asshole to fly by. They can’t see my cut from inside the sedan, and getting pulled over would take time I don’t have. So I suffer.

  Soon enough, the SUVs come into view. They’re parked on the side of the narrow highway, seemingly unattended at first sight. I pull off to the side about fifty yards away and kill the engine. On foot, I approach the SUVs with caution, retrieving my gun from the back of my jeans, unlocking the safety, and rounding the back of Ruby’s Suburban.

  The crunching of a pinecone surprises me, redirecting my attention to the other side of the Suburban. Fish stands just off the side of the road, with an AR-15 in his hands, the business end pointed right between my eyes. It takes him a moment to relax before he lowers the gun and narrows his eyes in frustration. His chest heaves from the shock of being snuck up on. My own gun is still at my side, having not reacted quickly enough to draw it. Fuck. This is the shit that Duke is talking about when he says that I need to pay better attention or I’m going to get my ass killed.

  “Scared me, man,” he complains.

  I shake off the fear of being done-in by friendly fire, and blow out a heavy breath. “You’re fucking telling me.” Nodding my head to the woods and raising my brows, I say, “Duke wants me with him. Where is he?”