by Cat Mason
“You better come up with somethin’ better than that before you talk to Stone,” I fire back, shaking my head. “If not, killing you now would be doin’ you a favor.”
“You have to believe me,” he pleads, sounding like a pathetic fucking mess. “Schrader, you know I’ve got no beef with the club. That’s why I was so early with the shipment. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“Tell that to my son, motherfucker,” Doc growls, shoving Connor so hard that he falls down again. “The only reason you’re not eatin’ a bullet is because we want more than the goddamn errand boy.” Spitting on him, his eyes drop to his injured leg, then snap to me. “The fuck did you shoot him for?”
“He tried to run,” I shrug. “Stone said not to kill him. I didn’t.”
“Hostages need to be whole before they’re broken,” he fires back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, I’ve gotta patch him up before I can hurt him.”
“We can stop and grab some princess Band-Aids and a juice box from the school nurse. For fuck’s sake. Are we really arguing about this?” I ask, tapping Connor’s knee with the toe of my boot, my lips twitching with amusement when he yelps. “Shut the fuck up, pussy. It’s a goddamn flesh wound.”
“Sadistic bastard,” Doc chuckles. “Get his ass to the van before someone pulls in and sees us.”
“Hey!” I shout, when he starts across the lot. “How ‘bout some help?”
“I didn’t fuckin’ shoot him.”
“Better hope they never put you in a wheelchair, you old bastard,” I grumble under my breath. “Roll your ass right into Thurmond Lake.”
Grabbing Connor’s legs, I drag him across the lot to where the guys are waiting. He grunts and screams about how badly he is hurt. I roll my eyes. Instead of stopping, I yank him over one of the concrete parking blocks, his head bouncing off of it like a basketball. He goes limp, the whining stopping immediately. “If he’s dead, Stone’s gonna be pissed,” Doc chuckles. “But it’d be worth it. I was starting to debate shootin’ him myself.”
“Not every bullet adds to the body count,” I reply, waggling my brows. “Go for it. Then you can help me. He’s fuckin’ heavy.”
Connor is still unconscious by the time Torch and I get his big ass loaded into the back of the van. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I huff, closing the doors. “Need to get him down to Shadow Ridge. Can’t take him back to the clubhouse knowing fuckin’ McKelvy has basically put up a goddamn tent in the lot.”
“What about that?” Huck asks, jerking his chin in the direction of the truck.
Scratching my chin, I look to Huck. “Breaker one-nine, breaker one-nine. Huckleberry come on back.”
“I can drive it, but I’ll tell you now it’s not gonna make it down those trail roads to the bunker.” Pulling a flask from his pocket, Huck clears his throat. “Even if it did, there’s no turning it around to get rid of it.”
“I’ll get Colt,” Doc says, yanking the phone from his pocket. “He can meet us with the pickup. We can transfer it into that and the van.”
“So you really drove a Big Rig?” Torch asks, eyeing Huck as if he just met him.
“You bet your ass I did,” Huck nods. “That’s how I met my Ol’ Lady.”
“Nita drove a truck too?” Torch claps him on the back. “That’s fuckin’ hot, man.”
I laugh at Torch’s question, trying to imagine Huck’s woman, Nita, driving anything other than her tiny, little gold convertible or a piece of farm equipment.
“Hell no.” Huck takes a swig of the flask and grins. “Met her at that truck stop outside of Milford. Nita was nineteen; had an amazing set of tits, and wanted to run away from home. Never fuckin’ knew what hit me.”
“As much as I hate interruptin’ Huck before he shares his top ten favorite stretches of highway for road head,” Doc snaps, shoving his phone back in his pocket before heading toward his bike. “We need to get to it. Colt’s gonna meet us. Once we empty the truck, I’ll call Gil to come take it to chop.”
“You two check over the cargo?” I ask, looking between Huck and Torch. “Make sure we aren’t drivin’ a wired truck back toward Legion Falls?”
Huck nods. “Seals are all intact.”
“Yep. All ten crates,” Torch agrees.
“Ten?” Doc asks. “Stone said there were six.”
“Yeah,” Torch nods again. “Six crates from us. The other four are from Allure Bath and Body over in Milford.”
I look to Doc, who is already yanking a crowbar and hammer from his saddlebag. “Let’s check it out. Huck, get the manifest. I wanna know everywhere this fucker’s been.”
“Watch the prick,” I add, turning to Torch. “He wakes up and starts screamin’, pistol whip his ass.” Climbing into the back of the truck, I get to work on double checking our part of the shipment while Doc goes to work on prying open the lid of one of the others. “These all look good.”
“Schrader,” Doc barks, tossing the crowbar onto one of our crates. His eyes move to me, his jaw ticking angrily. “Get Stone on the phone.”
“Problem?” I ask, making my way over.
“Yeah.” Digging into the crate, he holds up a rectangular white brick covered in saran wrap. I stop cold, my fists balling at my sides. “From the looks of it, about five hundred pounds worth.”
Chapter Four
Schrader
Leaning back against the wall, Stone paces the length of the bunker while Doc checks out Connor’s leg. “I guess I should consider it good news that you only shot him once,” Stone deadpans, yanking a hand through his hair.
“Had I known what the fucker was haulin’ in the back of that truck,” I growl, glaring at the bastard lying on the folding table. “I would’ve aimed a lot goddamn higher.”
“Yeah.” His eyes move to Connor, his entire expression hardening. “I’m gonna give you that.”
“Bullet came out clean,” Doc announces, tossing a pile of bloody gauze to the table. “Took most of the knee with it though.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, lighting a cigarette. “Bet he won’t run next time.”
“Log’s fuckin’ bogus,” Huck announces, coming down the stairs. Swiping the cigarette from my fingers, he takes a drag. “My guess, it was more for show than anything.”
“More than likely,” Stone agrees. Walking over to the table, he grips Connor by the hair, yanking until he yelps. “You better start talkin’, motherfucker.” He slams his fist down on Connor’s knee, making him scream. “Or I can make you.” Grabbing his gun, Stone presses it to Connor’s temple and bares his teeth. “And you can bet your ass I’ll aim higher.”
“I don’t know anything!” Connor shouts, his voice shaky as fuck. “All I do is drive the damn truck.”
“Bullshit,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. “I say put a bullet in his skull. We can toss him in a ditch and be at Teague’s front door in time for dinner.”
Stone’s eyes snap to mine. “He’d be expecting that.”
Balling my fists, I nod slowly. “Then we shouldn’t disappoint the bastard.” Moving toward Connor, I have to resist the urge to wrap my hands around his throat. Or shoot the fucker myself. “We’ve got a destroyed auto parts building and half a truck full of blow. At this point, askin’ why isn’t changin’ a damn thing. This asshole’s a waste of time and oxygen.”
Connor’s eyes widen, shifting between Stone and I. “Wait!” he croaks frantically, trying to sit up. Stone releases his hold on him, taking a step back, but keeping his gun on him. “There’s money. Four envelopes, stuffed up under the seats in the cab. Go check if you don’t believe me. It’s all there.”
“You think this is about money?” Doc grounds out, taking a step forward.
“No,” he shakes his head. “Good faith gesture from me to you. Teague only said there was an agreement and you broke it. That if you wouldn’t clean up the mess, he would,” he swallows hard. “Starting with you.”
“The fuck is he talkin’ about?” Huck asks
, looking to Stone.
“I made a deal with Teague to get Roanne back,” he replies, yanking a hand through his hair. “If he gave me the lead, I cleaned up the mess.”
“You agreed to that shit without a vote?” Huck asks, his brow narrowing.
“There wasn’t time,” I fire back in his defense, remembering how goddamn close I came to getting to that room too late. “Raise your hand if you regret savin’ Roanne,” I add, staring each of them down, daring Huck to say another word. He doesn’t. “I have plenty of regrets from that night. Gettin’ to her in time isn’t one of ‘em.”
Doc nods. “A vote wouldn’t have changed anything. Teague knew exactly how this shit would play out and used it to his advantage. This isn’t about what we did or didn’t do. It’s about what he wants and didn’t get.”
“Worthless motherfucker.” Anger rages through my veins. “How long has he been running drugs through here?” I ask him, my fucking patience wearing thin.
“I didn’t know about the drugs, Schrader. Every crate I pick up is sealed,” his reply is instant. “I swear. Teague gives me first name only contact info and addresses for my route. I keep them in a little notepad. That’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll make it real simple,” I ground out, baring my teeth. “How long has Teague been doin’ business with Allure?”
“Few months now,” he blurts without hesitation. “The gig was set up with those people by your guy for Teague. I never handled shit, other than pick-up and delivery. I swear.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re not lyin’. I can make you wish you were dead without ever firin’ a shot,” Stone warns, sliding his gun back inside his cut. “We’re gonna need that notepad.”
“Inside pocket of my jacket,” Connor stutters. “In the truck.”
“What about the bricks of blow?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to pour every single ounce down the fucking drain.
“Leave it. Wipe prints and stage the scene to draw attention.” Pulling out his phone, he heads for the stairs. “I’ll give McKelvy a heads up. He gets a win and the Feds have something more important than our auto shop mishap to distract them for a while.”
“Smart thinking,” Huck says, nodding his head in agreement. “Make the call right before sunrise. Torch and I will handle it.”
“And him?” I jerk my chin in Connor’s direction.
Stone’s lips twitch in amusement. “Doc’s gonna make him real comfortable. Ain’t that right, Brother?”
“Damn right,” Doc grunts. “Welcome to the Shadow Ridge Inn, asshole.”
Following Stone out, I head for our bikes. “I reached out to Merc,” Stone blurts, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Need to know where they’re gonna land on this once the dust settles. After I check in with Ro, Colt’s ridin’ down with me to talk to Merc and Rabbit.”
“You questionin’ the Road Warriors’ loyalty?” I ask, knowing that Uncle Vic goes way back with their President, Mercury.
“No,” he answers immediately. “Our friendship with the Warriors gives us eyes at the state line. And, when the time comes, it gives us the added numbers we need to take out Teague.”
“Want me to ride down with you?”
He shakes his head. “Need you here with Shy and Ro. I’ve got Jinks workin’ an angle. No way he can keep an eye on those two and handle all the other women too. They’d eat him alive.”
“Got it,” I chuckle. “If shit gets outta hand, I’ll use my gentlemanly charm. Works every time.”
Throwing a leg over his bike, he groans. “One of these days, a woman’s gonna shoot you with your own gun.”
“I’ve been shot; I’ll tell you somethin’ about that shit,” I mutter, lighting the last smoke in my pack. “The next woman who fuckin’ tries to squeeze off a round best know she’s gonna be gettin’ my cock in her ass.”
Slipping on his sunglasses, he laughs. “Not if she shoots you in the dick.”
I am starving by the time I finally make it back to the clubhouse. Heading straight for the kitchen, I find Shy finishing up dinner for everyone. “Thank God.” Walking up, I drape an arm around her shoulder. “I’m fucking starved.”
“Dinner’s in twenty,” she informs me, keeping her focus on the pan of chicken she has frying.
“You really gonna make me wait?” Reaching around her, I snag a leg from the platter.
Spinning, she swats me with the spatula. “Shithead.”
“You’re so abusive,” I grumble. “Friends don’t beat friends without a safe word.” Her body tenses for a few seconds before she huffs out a laugh and she shakes her head. Leaning back against the counter, I bite into the chicken. “Damn, that’s good,” I mumble as I chew.
“It should be,” she replies. “It’s Vic’s recipe.”
“Mhm.” I take another bite. “Except, you add beer to the batter.”
“Yeah.” Turning, she eyes me carefully. “How’d you know that?”
“I notice things,” I shrug.
“Yeah. I guess,” she breathes.
“Gonna be a little thin around here tonight,” I inform her. “Club business. It’ll be just us girls hangin’ out.”
Rolling her eyes, Shy snorts. “You’re an idiot.”
“Love you too,” I say, winking at her.
“Mhm,” she says, brushing me off.
“Serious question.” Wrapping my arm around her again, I yank her into my side. “Would you ladies rather have pillow fights and makeovers or just Netflix and chill?”
“Sorry, shithead,” Shy says, prying my hand from her shoulder. “I’ve got no time for your crazy ass. Tonight, I’m kitchen bound. I’ve got a hundred cherry turnovers that need to be made for the elementary school fundraiser by tomorrow morning.”
“No shit?” I flash her a smile. “Sounds like you need a taste tester.”
“Not a chance in hell. You’d eat them faster than I could bake them. Besides, I’d rather be alone.” Grabbing the oven mitt, she yanks a pan full of biscuits out of the oven. “Shit!” she hisses, tossing the pan onto the counter. Flinging the mitt to the floor, she squeezes her fingers. “Dammit! How the fuck was the mitt wet?”
“Hey, it’s a burn, not a bullet wound.” Tossing my chicken bone to the trashcan, I wipe my greasy hands on my pants. “Come here.” Watching Shy, I have to stop myself from laughing while she rages. Kicking the stove, her mouth runs non-stop, cursing the oven, the biscuits, the wet oven mitt, along with most of humanity. “Woman, I think the oven’s had enough.” Grabbing her hand, I switch on the faucet to let the cold water run over our fingers. “Better?” I ask, running the tips of my fingers over hers.
“Mhm.” My eyes drop to her mouth as her tongue runs along her bottom lip. I bet they taste as good as they look. Her eyes meet mine and she swallows hard, the tears threatening in her deep blues pulling me from my thoughts. “Good as new.”
“You’re wound too tight,” I tell her, feeling the tension coming off her body in waves. “Take a breath and a couple shots of Crown. You’re gonna snap like a rubber band.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Comes along with the territory.” The look in her eyes makes me uneasy. The hurt she has been trying to mask shows through. I don’t fucking like it one bit.
“Shy, baby—” I start, her eyes widening when I call her baby. I don’t have a fucking clue what to say. Honestly, talking isn’t on the list of ideas in my head. Though, for the first time I can ever remember, kissing her is.
“Hey. Need some help with dinner?”
My eyes move to the door, landing on Roanne. Stepping into the kitchen, her eyes shift between Shy and me, then drop to our hands. “Yes. I burned my hand,” Shy says, slipping from my grip. “Ro, can you get dinner out on the bar?” Shutting off the water, she grabs a hand towel from the folded stack on the windowsill and wraps it around her hand. “I need a minute.”
Without another word, Shy hauls ass from the room without so much as looking at me. Ro’s eyes snap to mine, quizzically. “Did
I interrupt something?”
Yanking a hand through my hair, I stare at the empty doorway and shake my head, my mind completely fucking blown. “Nah,” I assure her, heading for the door. “This is gonna need to happen somewhere without sharp knives and fryin’ pans.” Shaking off thoughts of kissing Cheyenne, I get my head right with what I know she needs to hear from me right now. The goddamn truth. I just hope she is unarmed.
Chapter Five
Shy
Swinging open the backdoor, I step out into the cool evening air, heading straight for the picnic tables that surround the fire pit. I didn’t need Schrader to tell me that I am wound up. As if I didn’t already know that? I sure as fuck don’t need him pointing that shit out to me, or any-goddamn-body else. I can just imagine the next time the guys are at the table.
They’ll probably take a vote to start spiking my coffee with mood stabilizers.
Or have me committed.
“Hey!” Schrader shouts behind me. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I ground out in frustration. “Just getting some air.”
“Liar,” he spits, calling me out.
“The fuck did you say?” I ask, whipping around to face him.
“I said you’re a liar,” he repeats, challenging me. “Fuckin’ bad one, too.”
“Go to hell, Schrader,” I spit, flipping him off. “I’m fine. I have always been fine. No burns, beatings, or bullshit is gonna change that.” I harden my stare to drive the point home. “So how about you walk yourself back inside and tell everyone that Cheyenne is absolutely fuckin’ fantastic. Let ‘em all know that I don’t need or want anyone fuckin’ hoverin’ over me like I’m gonna break at any second. Maybe, if it comes from you, everyone will shut the fuck up and stop throwin’ their two cents at me every chance they get.”
“What’s wrong with your family being worried about you?” he asks, throwing up his hands.
Fucking clueless. I swear.
“Worry?” I laugh. “Don’t you mean pity?”
