“Honest,” I stressed, “Dash is my past. I thought we both knew that. He’s always been out there wetting his wick worse than . . .”
“Worse than Killer was before he met me?” she finished in a joking tone. To my relief she bumped her shoulder into me. “I know Zion wasn’t celibate before me. There was a reason he was called Ladykiller, right? I know.” She shrugged, seeming so much calmer and confident than she’d been when I’d first met her. “That was before me. Now? He’s mine.”
I laughed at the edge of venom that had crept into her voice. She had grown at least a bit of an attitude being with Killer. It looked good on her. Worrying about my drama with Noah wasn’t what either of us needed. I’d rather think about Alamo, and Aubrey had plenty on her plate with Killer about to ship out to boot camp.
“So what’s the plans for Killer’s going-away party?”
“Echo and Zion are . . . negotiating. Echo wants a blowout. Zion wants them not to make a fuss.” Aubrey shoved the door open with more force than strictly necessary. She wasn’t in a proper snit, but she sounded like she wasn’t too far from it. “The two of them! I swear they’re absurd since Zion got shot and Echo agreed to him leaving the club. You’d think it was a wedding reception the way they try to draw me into it. I’m not the one going away or the father of him, but I’m stuck in the middle. Grandma Maureen won’t tolerate it, though. She kicked them out halfway into dinner last night because they started bickering again, told them that they’d sort it out by tonight or we were deciding.”
She paused awkwardly and glanced sideways at me. We were almost to the lot, and I figured she was headed over to the bar for work. She had continued on as a bartender even after getting with Killer. Most of the barmaids had a rule that they couldn’t date a Wolf and still work there, but with Killer’s leaving the club, that rule wasn’t quite as applicable, I guessed.
I could hear in her voice that there was more she wanted to say. That tentative tone of hers had me debating between having mercy on her and forcing her to get there on her own, but she was also glancing at her phone semi-subtly. Either she was running late or had another stop before work. So I prompted, “Spill.”
She let out her breath in a big whoosh and, in a tumble of words, blurted, “There’s a party at the bar tomorrow. Gran and I planned it, not huge, but not ignoring it either. Since Zion and Echo couldn’t agree, we took over.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “That’s why you wanted me to keep tomorrow open? Sneaky thing. I thought you wanted a girls’ night or a favor.”
“You’ll come, right? Even with you and Noah fighting, you’ll come?”
I nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it. Killer’s family.”
“He’ll be glad you’re there. At least he will when he realizes there’s a party. Right now he’s clueless. Echo is too. Technically, people aren’t supposed to keep secrets from Echo . . . and I wasn’t sure they would, so we’ve had to be a little stealthy. Mike knows, and Uncle Karl knows. Alamo too.”
My ears perked up at that. “Alamo?”
“And Hershey and Big Eddie . . . and Noah. So far, Grandma Maureen just told the ‘cubs’ because they’re all as scared of her as they are of Echo.” Aubrey preened a little. The fact that her grandmother was the former—and renewed—love of the club president amused her. She’d gotten to see a side of Echo that very few people did. Noah and Killer had, of course. I had too.
None of that meant that Echo would hesitate to pull a trigger or order it done. Echo wasn’t a house pet, no matter how much of his sweet side Aubrey had seen the past few months. He was ruthless, but he was ruthless for the good of the club. They were his family, and a Wolf would kill or bleed for family. I’d grown up knowing that, and I took comfort in it.
It was why I wasn’t sure I could ever leave Williamsville. It was also why I knew I could do so if I decided to go. The club would look after Mama.
“So, party . . . ?”
“At the bar.” She squirmed a little more.
“Spit it out, girl.”
“Echo says you sing,” she half said, half asked.
I tensed.
“Do you sing?” Aubrey pressed.
I used to sing at club parties. My father and I both did. Now that I was singing in Memphis again, I should’ve expected this request. I hadn’t. I’d been so caught up in my personal dramas and my own slow return to singing that I hadn’t thought about needing to sing for Wolves again. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to either. I just hadn’t thought I was ready. Sometimes, however, being part of Echo’s family meant that decisions were out of my hands.
As calmly as I could, I asked, “Echo brought it up?”
She nodded. “He was telling me that you had a beautiful voice, and that it was a shame that you didn’t ever sing at the bar.”
I nodded. There really wasn’t another option before me. Echo spoke, and the rest of us obeyed.
“I know he’s hoping that you’ll sing, but he didn’t want me to ask until right before the party. He might not know when it is now that Gran and I did this, but he’d said before that we’d ask you the day before the party. I guess he wanted you to not to have time to change your mind,” she explained.
Sometimes I wanted to teach her to read between the lines, but I liked her for who she was, and I thought that between Killer and her grandmother and Echo, she’d be just fine. She wasn’t stupid or even naïve. She simply didn’t translate biker words and acts to regular ones. I smiled and said, “If Echo wants me there, I’ll be there, and I’ll be singing.”
“Oh good! I was worried that you’d say no.”
The relief in her expression was too much for me. I didn’t want to take away her sweetness, but I had to point out the truth that was seemingly obvious to everyone but her. Gently I said, “No one tells Eddie Echo no, Aubrey. He wants me to sing. I sing. It wasn’t a request. It never is with him.”
“Oh.” She frowned, and I felt a little bad as I watched her think over the situation. After a moment, she let out a groan. “How does he seem so nice when really he was giving you an order? He was, wasn’t he? I was delivering his order.”
I gave her a one-armed hug. “He is nice to the people under his wing. We’re all there. You more than most. Between your grandmother and Zion, you’re loved by the two people he loves.”
Aubrey sighed again. “I know, but . . . I’m sorry. I can tell him I don’t want you to sing or—”
“I’ll be there, Aubrey. I’ll sing for Killer. It’s all good,” I promised her.
Then I shooed her into the mammoth car she drove and waved her off. I didn’t want her to linger longer, as I’d just noticed two guys staring at us. As Aubrey left, I glanced surreptitiously at them. They weren’t looking at her quickly disappearing car, but at me.
Seeing unfamiliar faces wasn’t entirely unheard of on the Williamsville Community College campus. There was always a mix of regulars like Noah and me who were taking their own sweet time to complete a degree and those who seemed to take only a class or two and then vanish. Seeing two strangers eyeing me, however, was atypical. Because I was the daughter of a Southern Wolf and had been a friend of other Wolves (or their kids) my whole life, people tended to give me a wide berth. If I had been a different kind of girl, I might think it was simple attraction, but I’d realized years ago that everyone attracts a type. There might be exceptions, but as a rule, women attracted men who had things in common with them. Maybe it was as simple as the way we responded to them, some signal we gave out unconsciously. Did I look back a little longer when bikers turned their gazes my way? Did I smile a little warmer for a man in worn jeans or a well-made leather vest? Did I take an extra breath at the sight of a good-looking tattoo? I went through a stage a few years ago when I tried to pay attention to it for a while—determined not to attract another man like the ones I’d dated so far, hoping to meet someone totally unexpected—but I’d never been able to figure out much of a pattern beyond the basic truth that we a
ll have types whether we want to or not.
Khakis? Button-ups? They weren’t the sort of men who looked my way very long—and I didn’t do anything to suggest they should. Whatever reason these two had for watching me, it wasn’t something good.
Chapter 24
ALAMO WASN’T GOING TO START DIGGING POSTHOLES for a white picket fence or anything, but he was feeling pretty good about the way things were turning out with Ellen. They’d still need to deal with the Dash factor. Larger than that, Alamo would need to decide if he could handle staying around, stepping up into Killer’s role for the club, knowing that eventually it would be Dash he’d have as a president. Could he take orders from him? Would Dash be able to treat him fairly? Obviously he’d made progress in that direction because he’d been willing to trust Alamo to keep a watch over Echo, Aubrey, and her grandmother at the hospital, but that was a special situation. There was no way to determine if they could sort things out long-term.
For now he’d stay in Tennessee, but he wasn’t about to start trying to figure out anything beyond the next year or two. What he could say for certain was that things were good for him here right now. That much he knew. Less than a year ago, he’d been forced to leave North Carolina because of trouble that he hadn’t exactly started, but he’d certainly answered to the point of explosion. Despite the things he’d lost by leaving North Carolina, in moving to a new state he’d somehow ended up with a respected position and, potentially, a woman worth keeping.
All of which meant that he was expecting disaster to come knocking any minute now. If his mother had taught him anything in his childhood, it was that trouble likes a calm sea as much as the next person. The difference, inevitably, was that trouble turned a calm sea into the start of a hurricane as like as not.
So it wasn’t terribly shocking when Zoe texted and said, “Coming up tomorrow.”
He pulled out of traffic to reply. He hadn’t been her brother and occasional father for all these years not to have learned a few things about his little sister. She was terse as a way to withhold information—often information he should have. It was her way of avoiding conflict, of aiming to keep those seas still and relaxed. By now it had the exact opposite effect on him. Her short, terse texts or messages raised alarms.
“What happened?” he replied.
“Talk tomorrow. Ana with me. Love.”
Alamo scowled at the phone, even though his sister couldn’t see his expression. They had been at an impasse often enough for him to know that pushing her wouldn’t get him anywhere. That didn’t mean he could skip asking questions. Trying to get a few details out of his stubbornly closemouthed baby sister wasn’t easy, but it was necessary for him to have any peace of mind.
He texted, “Hurt?”
“No.”
“Need escort?”
“Still no. Am OK. Coming up. LOVE.” Zoe was far too fierce for her own good. If he’d had his way, he’d have sent her to one of those fancy private schools he’d seen on television programs, but that took a lot more cash than he had. Since he’d been fifteen, he’d taken work as a mechanic when he could find it. It was good honest work, and now that he was employed by the Wolves, he had that income as well. All told, he’d added to his savings over the years, dipping into it for Zoe’s books and clothes and things. She had a fund given to her by her father, but it came with strings . . . and Alamo would rather work until he collapsed than have her tie herself even a little to her father.
He didn’t remember the man well, but he knew that when Anthony Battista had been arrested, it was more than local news. He’d killed for hire—not that being paid or killing were inherently an issue under all circumstances. Alamo wouldn’t be a Wolf if he thought that. However, Zoe’s dad had reputedly enjoyed his work a bit too much. He’d made the news in that way that only the truly sensationalized crimes did. So accepting his money wasn’t an option for Zoe, and forcing the matter hadn’t ever been even a consideration for Alamo.
That meant focusing on earning so as to provide for Zoe. Luckily, they could get enough grants to cover Zoe’s college tuition, partly because in-state tuition wasn’t as high as tuition at a private college. It was still a bit more than he’d had saved, but with the grants, he’d made it work. Zoe didn’t ask how, and he wasn’t going to bring it up.
He was going to strangle her if she didn’t get better about telling him secrets at a distance. Her refusal to put anything into type wasn’t as much of a problem when they lived in the same apartment. Now that they were in different states, it was a huge pain in the ass.
Several more texts to Zoe went unanswered, but she finally sent a reply saying, “In class. Stop. Will see you tomorrow.”
After another scowl at his phone, he shoved it back into his pocket and resumed his drive.
When he pulled into the lot of Williamsville Community College, he didn’t have far to go to find Ellen. She was standing at the edge of the lot looking toward the main buildings of the tiny campus. She turned when she heard the sound of his bike, and the frown on her face was quickly replaced by a wide smile.
“Do you know any sexy singers in want of a ride?”
Ellen cocked her hip and looked him up and down in that unapologetic way of hers. “Depends. Do you make a habit of lurking in school parking lots?”
“I might, but only if you’re going to be in them,” he said.
She laughed. “Good answer.”
“Leave your car. I’ll bring you back tonight if you want.”
“What if I don’t want?”
“Then I’ll bring you back in the morning.”
“Let me get my helmet out of the car.” She sashayed to her car like she was on a stage and then looked back to make sure he was watching.
He was. “You trying to kill me with those hips, darlin’?”
Her laugh was lighter than he’d heard any time other than when they’d gone riding. “Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” she said in an exaggerated drawl.
He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
Chapter 25
THE NEXT DAY I SPOTTED THE TWO KHAKI-CLAD STRANGERS everywhere I turned on campus. The taller of the two seemed to be the alpha dog. Both were in their midtwenties, looked like they were lost en route to a country club, and had enough subtle signs of money that I knew they weren’t community college students. I didn’t recognize either of them, and I didn’t see them talking to anyone in a familiar way. They spoke to people, but no one greeted them like they were friends.
I was very careful not to let them see me talking too long to my usual friends. I was already avoiding Noah, so that was easy. Aubrey was busy with tonight’s party. I kept my conversations with everyone else to under five minutes. It was a little ridiculous, but until I knew who and what these two wanted, I was being cautious. I had no idea if they’d been following me long. I didn’t think they had because based on today, they were far from stealthy.
By the end of the day, I’d run out of patience. I didn’t do stalkee. Not now, not ever. I debated telling someone, calling one of the Wolves, but I also didn’t do helpless maiden very well. I wanted something more concrete than “two guys keep watching me” before I talked to anyone.
So I waited for my chance. Once I was sure they were near enough to hear me, I silenced my phone and pretended to make a call. “I’m headed to the car. I’ll see you soon.”
Then I walked toward the lot as quickly as I could without seeming to be rushing. I stepped behind a truck with a massive lift kit and quickly crouched down. I stayed down and ducked behind several cars until I was on the far side of the lot, near my car in case I needed to reach it but well hidden.
I was parked in the outermost row near the restored El Camino that my friend Toby drove. He had it lowered so it would all but brush gravel if it hit a slight bump. I felt a little ridiculous hiding behind a car, but better that than being a victim because I ignored the pit in my gut.
I watched the two buttoned-up types look aroun
d the parking lot. The taller of the two made a remark to his companion. I couldn’t hear the words, but I didn’t need to hear it to know that he was angry or frustrated. The stiff body and wide hand motion conveyed that well enough—as did the other guy’s tightening expression.
I hid and watched as they walked toward a Lexus that I’d thought was theirs. It wasn’t sports car flashy, but it had that money feel to it.
“Well? Where did she go?” the taller khaki asked.
“How the fuck would I know?” the other answered.
“She should be here. That was her last class.” Despite irritation, he seemed to at least be a little bit observant. That had been my last class of the day. On the other hand, my schedule wasn’t terribly complex, and the campus was small enough that it wouldn’t take long to suss out my schedule. That idea made me increasingly uneasy, though, because it meant that they might have watched me for a few days before I noticed. That made me feel both nervous and stupid.
The shorter guy was looking around the lot, and I tensed as his eyes raked over the area where I was hidden. His voice carried well as he said, “Well, we’d see her if she was here. That chick dresses like a blind vagrant.”
Silently I flipped him off, even though he couldn’t see my gesture. I was insulted, but I was also relieved that I wasn’t imagining that they were following me. I didn’t consider myself paranoid, but being stalked was unexpected. There was no way they meant anyone else, though, not with that reference to my clothes.
Once they got into their car and left, I stood and walked to my beat-up Civic. It was about as well used as a car could get while still being functional. Right now, though, it felt like a fabulously protective castle. I wasn’t scared per se, but no good comes of being stalked.
Unruly Page 18
