Aubrey pulled Killer onto the floor to dance, and once I got past the shock of his agreeing to dance in public, I was impressed. We’d danced as kids, but he and Noah both had always refused to dance in public.
“Get your ass out here, Dash,” I said into the mic. “If Killer can do it, you better too.”
People pushed him toward the floor, and Aubrey took his hand and pulled him to them as soon as he was in reach. It stung briefly that she was standing where I once had been with them when we were younger, but it passed in a blink. She was the one for Killer, and she was Noah’s friend. She had every right to be there, and I was happy to see the boys both smiling at her.
Killer called, “Hey, old man!”
He motioned Echo forward with a sweeping gesture.
Echo shook his head, but Mrs. Evans said something, and when Echo didn’t stand, she shrugged and joined her granddaughter on the floor. No one else was ballsy enough to try to convince Echo to go to the floor, and he couldn’t very well come up unless he was sure it wouldn’t look foolish. Power requires respect.
When the song ended, I said, “One more song . . . just for the lovebirds who prefer something a little slower.” I met Echo’s gaze again. “Or want an excuse to dance with their ladies.”
I turned to the band and said, “Etta James’ ‘At Last.’”
As the song started, Echo stood and flashed a smile that made him look a lot younger than he was. Mrs. Evans turned to look for him, as if she knew that he’d come to the floor this time. There was something a little heartbreaking at seeing them together. She’d been one of my favorite teachers, and although she’d always paid a little extra attention to Killer, she was a fair teacher, a good one, one who treated her students with respect. I was glad to see her happy, but I was even happier to see Echo smile the way he was as he took her into his arms.
Killer and Aubrey were dancing, and Noah’s date was flouncing across the bar even as he was leaving the dance floor. He said something that made her cross her arms over the excessive cleavage she was flashing. I almost felt bad for her. Even though I didn’t really want to talk to him, I didn’t wish him ill. We were friends before we’d been anything else, and I knew I’d forgive him sooner or later.
I chanced a look at Alamo, whose gaze was fastened on me like he was a starving man. I shivered visibly, and he smiled. Whoever those two girls with him were, they weren’t looking at him the way he was looking at me. Maybe they were friends or something. I had never been a jealous or possessive woman, and the flash of it that I’d felt at seeing him burned away in the intensity of how he was looking at me.
Plus, if the girls were here as Alamo’s dates, Killer wouldn’t have stepped in between Alamo and Noah. Killer might not be all showy about it, but we had been close friends as kids. Now we were rediscovering our old friendship. I wasn’t sure who they were or what the deal was with those two, but I knew that Killer wouldn’t have walked away if Alamo had disrespected me that way.
Alamo watched me as I sang, and all I could think about was the way we’d kissed after the last time I’d been onstage. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that sort of thing here in front of the Wolves, and I didn’t want to risk rejection in front of them. The safe thing, the wisest thing, was to not do or say anything. I should treat him exactly as I had before. That was the smart plan.
But by the time I finished the song, he was standing in front of the stage. I knew where we were, knew that more eyes were on me now than a moment ago when I was singing.
He held his hand up to me.
I stared at him, frozen as if with stage fright.
“Zoe is my sister,” he said softly. “I brought her here because I couldn’t not see you.”
“That isn’t . . .” I shook my head. “You don’t owe me explanations about who you spend time with.”
“What if I want to owe them?”
There was a lot more to that question than I was ready to answer, but I knew what I wanted to say. I couldn’t. Knowing everything I did about him, all I wanted was to leap into his arms and say yes to whatever he wanted. I wasn’t sure I was ready to risk my heart yet.
I also wasn’t sure it was even a choice anymore. I’d realized it when I felt that surge of possessiveness earlier. I might not be ready to admit it aloud, but my heart was already his. It had been before my body was.
Silently I took his hand and stepped down.
“What’s it going to be?” he prompted. “Give this a chance, Ellen.”
“You’re sure?”
“I was sure months ago. I’m still sure.” He didn’t pull me closer, but he wasn’t keeping me at arm’s length the way Noah always had. It was all but spoken that he wanted to stake a claim . . . Here at Wolves & Whiskey. In front of all and everyone who knew me best.
Unlike when we’d gone to bars for me to sing or when we went riding, this was more than just us. It wasn’t like he was declaring me his old lady, but it was a step toward being something other than a secret fling.
I kept his hand in mine as I stepped closer and looked up at him. “I think you ought to kiss me.”
He smiled like he’d just been offered a prize, and then he pulled me even closer and kissed me in the middle of the dance floor.
That was it, a statement. It was terrifying to me to do so, but the touch of his lips made me forget that in the next heartbeat. I was his and he was mine. It was that clear . . . to everyone.
When he pulled back, I said, “If we’re going to date, I should meet your sister.”
Alamo draped his arm around my shoulders and led me to the two girls he’d walked in with.
And I pretended not to see the numerous assessing gazes. It was all manageable. Noah was carefully smiling at us, as if it pained him to do so, but he was determined. Alamo’s sister was studying me as we approached, but not with hostility.
All told, it looked like things were going to be better than I could’ve hoped.
Chapter 28
ON MONDAY I DECIDED TO MAKE USE OF ONE OF THE two unexcused absences allowed in my accounting class. As much as it pained me to admit it in public, I was good at accounting, so the absence wouldn’t hurt me. It seemed like a contradiction for someone who preferred design and music to excel in accounting, but I’d always had a head for numbers. It was the most practical thing I could do with my life, so I took business classes as a backup plan.
I tucked a few essentials in my bag in preparation, and then I drove to campus like normal.
After I parked, I acted like I had on Friday, ignoring my khaki-clad stalkers and proceeding toward the campus buildings where my classes were held. Today I whispered a silent prayer that I wouldn’t run into Noah, Aubrey, or any of my professors—especially the Payroll Accounting one.
I ducked into my building, grateful to have avoided anyone I knew, and then slipped out the side door and headed back to the lot to wait for my stalkers. I figured that once they realized that I’d ducked away they’d come back to the lot to watch my car.
Then I could ask why they were watching me. Admittedly, confrontation wasn’t always the wisest plan. Perhaps it was a bad plan today too, but it was the easiest way to be sure I got the answers I wanted. Depending on what they had to say, I could go to the Wolves or—hopefully—I could resolve it here on my own without doing that.
I walked toward their car once I hit the lot.
They weren’t anywhere in sight, but I had time and patience enough for this part. I figured they had an alarm, though, so I was hoping that my next action would yield results. I found their car, which stood out in the community college lot, and hip-checked it. As far as plans went, it was pretty basic, but “sound an alarm to summon idiots” seemed just about complex enough for the jackasses who’d been following me.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, hopped up on the hood of their car—and waited. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and I liked that I could watch for their approach. Once I was comfortable, aside from wincing at the car alar
m, I settled my open-topped bag in my lap for easy access.
It didn’t take even five minutes for them to come into the lot.
Shorter Khaki was talking to Khaki in Charge, hands gesturing broadly as he spoke. I could tell the exact moment that they spotted me because those wildly waving hands stilled, right hand mid-gesture.
They silenced the alarm.
I waved at them with one hand. My other hand was half in the top of my bag so I could hold my phone. It was subtle enough with the way I was seated that it could look like I was just resting my hand there, not that I was poised to send a text for help.
For several moments, they simply stared at me. There was no readable expression, no words, nothing that gave a clue as to what they’d do next. Then Khaki in Charge smiled in a way that made me think this might have been a very bad idea.
He walked confidently toward me. Shorter Khaki hung back. It was the sort of natural routine that spoke of a history of a predator and a vulture. Khaki in Charge would take down the prey, and Shorter Khaki would wait for the leavings. I wasn’t sure if that meant actual threat of injury or if their routine was more of a “collect one-nighters” sort of bad behavior. Either way, they triggered the primal alarms that almost every woman has when faced with these sort of men. They didn’t mean to do well by me; that much was increasingly clear.
It wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping to find, but my recon experiment had already told me that this was a situation that required backup. I might want to handle things on my own, but I wasn’t going to do so if it caused more problems for my Wolf family. The question was whether I should call for help or run. I slid my hand farther into my bag, feeling for the right place to press to hit SEND.
“I saw you,” I said as he approached, trying to make him look at my face instead of my hands.
“Saw me?” Khaki in Charge echoed.
“Watching me.” I looked past him to be sure that I could track Shorter Khaki too. He hadn’t moved, standing back half awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or go.
Khaki in Charge smiled. “You’re a pretty girl. Men must watch you all the time.”
Appealing to vanity wasn’t a bad strategy, but I wasn’t as stupid as he was obviously assuming. Honestly, I’d guess that most women weren’t so foolish as to fall for empty praise from a guy who set off warnings. My guess was that if he got anywhere, it was by way of his wealth. Maybe that and dulled senses from a couple of drinks would make a woman ignore that tickle that had already started to cue that flight was a wise choice.
I said nothing.
“Do you have class today?” Khaki in Charge asked, although we both knew that answer.
“I do, but there was this nicely dressed man watching me pretty seriously on Friday, so I thought I’d pause here and ask why.” I was still keeping my voice light enough that it could be mistaken for flirtatious. I didn’t know if he was buying it, but straight-out confrontational—which had been my preferred plan—seemed unwise now that I’d met him.
“I’m Jason Worthington, by the way.”
“Angel,” I lied.
“Really?” Jason said.
“You doubt me?” I smiled lightly.
Jason’s companion snorted and muttered something I didn’t hear. I doubted it was anything I wanted to hear though. They were slime. That much was obvious by the way they looked at me, and that was after the host of facts already lined up against them.
“You think he’ll be more willing to face just two of us?” Jason’s cohort asked. “He thought he was so smart coming up here, but it only took a few incentives for us to find people willing to watch for him. Those patches on his coat made it pretty obvious where he’d run. Narrow in on the ‘chapters’ of that gang.”
“They’re not a gang,” I snapped at Shorter Sleaze.
Jason laughed. “So you’re not so sold on him that you can keep your mouth shut about him, but not about the thugs.”
Shorter Sleaze nudged Jason. “You know that whores with bikers are passed around like a bowl of chips.”
I pushed SEND on my prewritten text message, wishing I could amend it with the few things I’d learned. Whoever these guys were, they were here to find Alamo. I hated summoning him to trouble, but I was feeling increasingly cornered.
“Maybe I should go.” I started to slide off the car, but Shorter Sleaze lunged and grabbed my arm.
I struggled, stomping on his foot and then kicking back at his shins. I jabbed my elbow into his gut as hard as I could. He let out a grunt and released me.
Before I made it more than a few steps, my knee gave as Jason kicked me from behind.
“Now now, Angel,” he said as he stomped on my ankle. “The spic seemed awfully protective of you, so I’d rather you don’t go just yet.”
The pain in my ankle was a fairly good indicator that I wasn’t likely to be able to run if I managed to get to my feet, but being on the ground wasn’t a safe plan either. On the other hand, I was in the school lot. Screaming seemed pretty girlie, but better to resort to the girlie ploys than to end up in a bad way.
I opened my mouth, and Shorter Sleaze kicked me hard enough that I gasped for air, choking my scream until it was more of an abbreviated yelp. He jerked me to my feet by one arm, and I discovered that putting any weight on my ankle was not a good plan.
“Your mutt put me in the hospital,” Jason said as he stepped closer to me. “Some little bit of trash went whining because she changed her mind, and he showed up and beat me. I could’ve put him in jail.”
The temper that threatened to boil over was vying with the increasing urge to vomit from the pain in my throbbing ankle. Jason shook me, and I put my foot down hard. That was it. The puke won. I turned my head and vomited all over Shorter Sleaze.
For a moment, Jason stared at me, and then he laughed.
Shorter Sleaze looked like his whole lifetime’s tempers erupted in one instant. He balled up his fist and raised it, but it wasn’t his laughing friend he hit. He punched me in the face—which made Jason laugh harder.
After a moment, he looked at his friend. “You can’t get in my car like that. Call a cab.”
Then he dragged me to his back passenger car door, opened it, and shoved me inside. “Don’t spew in my car,” he said, and then he slammed the door and walked around to the front.
My purse was still on the ground outside the car, and I felt like my face and leg were both thumping in time with my racing heart. I had severely overestimated myself, and underestimated the uptown asshole who was apparently kidnapping me.
He climbed in the front seat.
“You need to let me out and just drive away,” I warned him.
“Or what?”
“I was raised by bikers. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” I blinked against the new tide of nausea.
“He put me in the hospital, and I couldn’t press charges because of the little whore who got cold feet,” Jason snapped. “Díaz owes me.”
“The Wolves protect their own,” I said, both trying to buy time and trying to head off the shit storm that would come if he hurt me any further. It might already be too late to stop retribution, but I wasn’t interested in any of my family seeing jail time over this.
Jason said nothing else. He simply started the car and pulled out of the lot, leaving his friend behind and taking me God only knew where.
Chapter 29
ALAMO WAS TRYING TO FIX THE HEAP OF A CAR THAT Killer’s woman had bought, but when he got Ellen’s text, he thought he was going to snap his phone in his bare hands. He dropped the wrench in his hand.
“Killer!”
“What the . . .” Killer’s words faded as he glanced at his own phone. “She’s an idiot.”
Alamo was already snatching his keys up.
“I’ll call Dad, and—” Killer’s words died as his phone rang. He answered, “Yeah, I saw it. Where are you? . . . Meet you there.”
There were times when planning wasn’t Alamo’
s strong suit, not a lot of them, but that happened. Zoe and Ana came to the door. “Stay in the goddamn house. There’s a gun in the top drawer. No one in unless it’s Ellen or a Wolf. Got it?”
“What’s . . .” The rest of Zoe’s words faded as she looked at Killer. “Fine.”
Killer pulled out his gun, checked the clip, and stalked toward his bike. He threw a leg over it as he spoke into the phone he now had at his ear. “Echo, yeah. It’s Ellie. School lot. That’s all I know. She sent the guy’s plate number. Dash sent it to Mike, so everyone should have it. We’re moving.”
“Stay in the house, Zoe.” Alamo repeated as he went to his Harley.
Then he was on his bike and moving. He hated to snap at her, and he hated scaring her, but now wasn’t the time to deal with that.
As they rode, he saw more and more Wolves on the road. They all knew who they were looking for, and Alamo had never been so grateful that Ellen was a part of the Wolves family as he was today. He had no idea why anyone would give her shit, but he didn’t care. Whoever they were, they were done. It was that simple.
The next twenty minutes felt like a lifetime, but he wasn’t allowing the thought of what could be happening even to form. Ellen would be safe—and then he’d lock her in the house or at the least send a fucking guard with her if she needed to leave the house.
They were at a light when he felt another text. It wasn’t a red light, but he didn’t care. He stopped. Killer did the same.
“Douche called Jason. Took Ellie to motel out by the old gym.”
Before he finished reading the first text from Dash, a second came in: “Beef with Alamo. Bastard limping along the road explained. Meet there.”
Dash’s text was worse than a fist. Ellen was in danger because of Alamo. He had brought this here, and it was Ellen who was hurt.
“Jason raped Ana, my sister’s friend. I put him in the hospital,” Alamo said tersely.
All Killer said in reply was “We’re closer than Dash is.”
Unruly Page 20
