Biker Brigade

by Pierce, Nicolette

  “Could his phone be on silent?”

  “I thought it might be, so I called the room number. If he was sleeping, it would’ve woken him up.”

  “Maybe he’s in the bathroom or getting ice,” I said. “Try again in a few minutes.”

  He nodded. “Did you reach everyone?”

  “The girls and Rand are fine. Mrs. J. said she would call as soon as they had a plan.”

  Jack sat heavily in the chair. “That might take a while.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m going to go take a shower. I might as well scrub this lube off me while they argue.”

  Jack slid down in the seat, propping his feet up on the table. “Take your time. I’ll shower after you.”

  The hotel wasn’t anything special, but it did come with robes, which I was very thankful for. I hadn’t had time to buy clothing, so I’d been spot cleaning as best as I could. But now my clothes needed a serious cleaning. Hand washing would have to do.

  I stripped once I was in the bathroom, setting the phone on the counter and dumping my clothes into the sink. Hazarding a peek in the mirror, I cringed. I looked a complete mess. Even without the lubricant in my hair, I’d still look a disaster. I’d been using my fingers as a brush, and there were dark circles under my eyes. Moving to the shower, I turned it on and waited the few moments for it to warm. There was no need to stare in the mirror, torturing myself with how horrible I looked. I had been serious when I’d said I wouldn’t date again. It wasn’t worth it. No man was worth this much pain and misery.

  Whispers of what-ifs floated through my mind as I scrubbed my hair, but I locked them away. There’d be no what-ifs, especially about Brett. I was done.

  I owned my own home. I had Mrs. Janowski across the street. I had work. Well, technically I didn’t, but that was going to change as soon as I got back, after I found the texter.

  Crap! I’d never read the text after Sylvia had scared me and the following chaos.

  As I hurried to rinse off, shampoo dripped into my eyes, stinging them. Stupid hotel shampoo. Couldn’t they have bought the no-tear kind? I splashed water into my eyes, trying to rinse out the irritant.

  “Are you okay?” Jack asked, knocking on the door.

  “Yes, why?” I blinked my eyes rapidly, hoping it would help move the water around.

  “Because you sound like you’re in pain.”

  I hadn’t realized I was making sounds. “I got soap in my eyes. But come in.”

  “Why?” he asked hesitantly.

  I would have rolled my eyes, but they were still stinging. “I’m not asking you to get the soap out. I want you to read a text.”

  He cracked the door open. “Are you decent?”

  “I’m behind the curtain.”

  “Okay, don’t come out.”

  I poked my head out. “You don’t have to act like the sight of me will cause you to turn to stone.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I don’t want to see you naked.”

  “I think I should be offended, but I don’t want to see you naked either.”

  “You sound offended.”

  “Because I probably am. I checked the mirror. I know I’m a mess.”

  “Let me start over,” he said. “I think of you as family, and you can’t unsee naked. Believe me, I’ve tried many times after seeing Hank.”

  “So, seeing me naked would be like seeing Hank naked?”

  “I didn’t say that! Christ!”

  “Just read the text! I promise not to pop out of the shower and scare you.”

  Jack glared at me. “I’m finding a lot of similarities between you and Andrea.”

  “Read the text!”

  He snatched the phone from the counter.

  “Well, what does it say?”

  “Are you trying to find me or the gatekeeper? Come if you must, but be careful. Brett and Annie are right behind you. Meet me at ten tomorrow night. Come alone or don’t come at all. I’m watching.” Jack looked up at me. “Is this the same guy who texted you warnings about Brett?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how he found me again.”

  “According to the message, he’s watching. I have a bad feeling about this guy.”

  “I do too, but he’s our only link to the gatekeeper. In fact,” I said, shutting off the shower and reaching for a towel, “he asked if I was looking for him or the gatekeeper. If he knew I was heading to Boston, why would he mention the gatekeeper unless the gatekeeper was in Boston? We’re getting closer.”

  “It also means he could warn the gatekeeper. We need to turn back. The risk isn’t worth it.”

  “Jack, I have to keep going. With or without your help. If it was just about me, I’d fly to a deserted island and eat coconuts for the rest of my life. But it’s Brett’s family too.”

  “Exactly. Brett’s family. Not yours. He’s the one who got everyone into this jam. Let him deal with the repercussions.”

  “No. I will not abandon them.”

  “So you’ll continue to Boston to find the gatekeeper. What happens when you find him? Are you going to kill him? Because that’s what it will take to stop him.”

  “I was hoping to send him to prison.”

  Jack laughed. “Do you really think that would stop him? Mars, think for a second. The guy has access to assassins. Prison won’t stop him.”

  Jack had a point, I grudgingly admitted to myself. But I couldn’t kill him. I’ve never killed anyone. It’s one thing to fight someone in self-defense. It’s another to take their life. Not that the gatekeeper deserved the life he had. But it wasn’t me who would rip it from him. It had to be prison.

  Or . . .

  Brett.

  Brett could kill the gatekeeper.

  “Why do you have that look on your face?” Jack asked.

  “I just thought of something.”

  “Why do I have a feeling I won’t like hearing it?”

  “You said the only way to stop the gatekeeper is by killing him, right?”

  “Yes,” he said hesitantly.

  “So, we find the gatekeeper, and Brett can do his hitman thing.”

  “We’re trying to run from Brett, not hire him.”

  “And then he can take out Annie when he’s done.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “No, it’s perfect. Brett is already at the hotel, which means Annie is only a step behind. She’ll follow us to Boston. Two hits. One hitman.”

  Jack’s fists anchored on his hips. “So, I can just step out into the hall and flag Brett down to ask him if we can hire his services. Would you care to dress before or after that? And what’s to say he won’t lodge one into your brain and walk off. What if he doesn’t want to kill his boss?”

  “That’s not his boss,” I said, waving off Jack’s concerns. “I’m on to something here. I just need to plan it properly.”

  With a sound of disgust, he tossed up his hands and walked out, snapping the door shut. I stared at the closed door, thinking he couldn’t be too upset—he hadn’t slammed it.

  But I was right. Maybe. I had to believe Brett would rather kill the gatekeeper than me.

  T had said something. It was around the time Brett said he had to kill me. What was it? Something like, “You know what you have to do.”

  Did they already have a plan? Did they know this was going to happen?

  I needed to know what T meant. And since Brett already knew where I was, a call to T might prove insightful.

  Chapter 16

  With crossed arms, Jack stared at me from across the room. I fiddled with the phone, knowing I was probably making a mistake by calling T. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t dialed yet.

  “You’re making a mistake,” he said, echoing my thoughts. “What good will it do?”

  “I don’t know if it will do any good. But, now that I understand a little more, I think they had a plan. If I know what it is, then maybe I can . . .”

  “Maybe you can what? You have no idea, do you?
Isn’t that why we’re here, because of them?”

  “I can’t explain it properly,” I said, crossing my arms, mirroring him. Perhaps I couldn’t explain it properly because I still didn’t fully understand anything.

  “Don’t do it, Mars,” he said. “You’re trying to find a way to reach out to Brett. I get it. I’ve done dumb shit before, trying to get back with a girl. But this time it’s your life on the line.”

  Was that what I was doing? Looking for excuses to reach out to Brett and return life to normal? But nothing would be the same again. I already knew that.

  I dropped the phone onto the nightstand and crawled into bed. “You’re probably right. I’ll sleep on it. Things have a tendency to be clearer in the morning.” I didn’t have to mention that I was chickening out. A call to T wouldn’t be pleasant, and I’d most likely end up crying.

  Jack’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. Get some rest. I’ll call Hank again. We’ll sort the rest out in the morning.”

  Either this was the most comfortable bed I had ever laid on, or I was exhausted from the endless road trip and constant worry. It was like a cloud. A heavenly cloud sent to comfort me. I barely heard Jack when he said Hank still wasn’t answering the phone. He was worried and wanted to check on him.

  “Go,” I mumbled. “I’ll be fine for the night.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t fall asleep yet.”

  “Just go. Sleep in your own bed. I’ll be fine.”

  I don’t know what he said after that. I fell asleep and was blissfully content to ignore Jack and keep sleeping.

  * * *

  I felt him again. His presence. He was here with me in my dreams. Brett sat on a chair in the dim light, staring at me as if he’d never seen me before, as if I was a curiosity. Was that the same look he’d had when we first met? I wish I could remember.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he asked softly.

  “Love me like you used to,” I answered, wondering why he was so far away.

  “I do love you.”

  “Then don’t kill me.”

  He crossed the room and sat on the bed. “I was never going to kill you.” His fingers drifted along my cheek. “Why did you leave with Rand? You promised to stay away from him.”

  It felt so real, as if this wasn’t a dream but that Brett was in the hotel room with me.

  “I heard you,” I said.

  “I know what you heard. And I did say it. It was out of shock, nothing more.”

  He touched me again, and the familiar current that I had grown to depend on ran deep through me. Something wasn’t right. This felt too real.

  I looked at him. The night didn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes. That didn’t seem right. I wouldn’t have dreamt them; he was always perfect.

  This was real. Brett was in the room with me.

  It was as if I had awoken in a vat of pea soup. I floundered in bed, wondering if I had dreamt the conversation and then he materialized. Either way, instincts kicked in and I had to run. If these damn sheets would stop wrapping around me!

  “Mars, calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  How the hell did the sheet knot around my ankle? Falling off the bed in my attempt at escape, I struggled with the material. It wasn’t working. Crap! Forget the sheet, I thought, as I scampered to the door. But before I could reach it, Brett caught me.

  “No!” I shouted. “Don’t touch me!”

  “Mars, calm down. Please. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “A promise from an assassin!” I shrieked, my vision fading at the edges.

  “Assassin?”

  He let go when I pushed against his chest. But before I could open the door, he caught me again.

  “Wait!” he growled. “Annie could be out there.”

  Tears flooded my eyes. I sank down to my knees, unable to control anything anymore. I couldn’t control the tears, I couldn’t control my noodle legs or my racing heart. It was all too much. I didn’t want to run anymore. I just wanted peace. “Just shoot me and be done with it. I’m tired. I’m so tired.” I was such a fool to think I could get to Boston and find the gatekeeper. Who the hell did I think I was? An ex events coordinator turned incompetent bartender didn’t have what it took to go after a guy with hitmen at his disposal.

  No, I was just an average woman who didn’t know anything about guns—much less how to shoot one without injury. And I was going to beat him?

  It was madness. My first clue should have been when Mrs. J. agreed with me. When have we ever agreed on anything?

  When Brett didn’t move, I looked up, flinching as if he’d shoot me the minute I made eye contact.

  But there was no gun. Only Brett with dark circles that matched my own.

  “Mars, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Then why did you break in? Why are you following me?”

  He sighed, kneeling next to me. Somehow that simple descent to my level reassured me, although not as much as I’d have liked.

  “I’ve been following you to make sure you were safe, not to hurt you. I didn’t knock on your door earlier because I sensed you needed time. When I knocked later, you didn’t answer.”

  “And so you broke in?” A prickle of my earlier anger slowly simmered back to life.

  “I thought that Annie . . .” He rubbed his hand over his face. “You do realize a serial killer has been set free on a technicality and disappeared as soon as her cuffs were taken off?”

  “I know that. I also know she’s not the only murderer chasing after me.” I stood, tightening my robe around me until it pinched.

  “Meaning me? I’m the murderer?” he asked, standing as well.

  “Don’t sound so surprised! How long do you think you could hide it from me? I knew you had to be getting your money from somewhere. I just didn’t think you’d kill for it.”

  His mouth opened, confused. “How did you . . .” He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “You had someone hack my phone, didn’t you? Why? I would’ve shown you if you asked.”

  “I did ask about your work—plenty of times. But we had set out to hack T’s phone, not yours.”

  “We?”

  When I didn’t answer, he walked over to the table. He took out his gun, set it on the table, and walked away.

  “It’s time we talked,” he said, sitting on the bed. “The gun is yours if you want to use it. I won’t touch it or go near it. You have my promise, whether you believe me or not.”

  I looked back and forth between the gun and Brett, not trusting my own instinct. Why was it so easy to believe him? Why did every word that slipped past his lips sound like the truth?

  It didn’t really matter that he gave up the gun. If he wanted to hurt me, he could do so without it.

  Is that why I believed him, because he didn’t hurt me even though he had plenty of opportunity? He said he wanted to talk. Fine. I had wanted this too, had even wanted to answer his phone call the other day before Rand stopped me.

  “Cuff yourself to the bed and throw me the key,” I said, knowing he always carried a pair on him while working.

  “Mars, Annie—”

  “Yes, I know. Annie could be out there. But I can’t focus on her now. If you want to talk, then cuff yourself. I’ll give you the key when we’re done.”

  “You don’t trust me anymore.” He sounded as pained as I felt.

  “Brett, I don’t know what to think anymore. I just need answers right now. If you want to talk, you’ll put on the cuffs.”

  “What if you don’t like what you hear?”

  “I promise not to shoot you.” Anything else was fair game.

  He swore and stood from the bed. At first I thought he’d changed his mind about wanting to talk, but he took the cuffs from his back jeans pocket and snapped one side to his wrist and the other through the groove in the headboard, tossing his keys to me. As soon as he sat down, I walked to the gun and stared at it. I didn’t touch it. How many lives were
taken by this hunk of metal?

  “Why did you try to hack T’s phone?” he asked.

  I eyed him, wondering how much to tell him. But if I dodged questions then he would too.

  “Mrs. J. saw T bribe a cop,” I said, sitting down in the chair, the gun within my reach. “We assumed for the crime scene photos.”

  “Why did you want them?”

  “You went into cop mode. You wouldn’t tell me anything except you’d be back for the trial.”

  “My word wasn’t good enough? You had to see what I was doing?”

  “Your word? Even in your conversation with T you mentioned that you might not make it back in time. So, excuse me if I don’t always rely on your word.”

  He stared hard at me. “Who hacked my phone?”

  I crossed my arms, staring back at him.

  Dawning registered on his face. “Shit. You had an eleven-year-old hack my phone?”

  Well, that was a pretty obvious conclusion. I couldn’t really tiptoe around that without telling a blatant lie that he’d see right through.

  “He tried T’s phone first and got blocked,” I said. “Then I remembered you had left right after talking to T. I thought T sent you the pics and that’s why you took off.”

  “Aaron hacked my phone, saw the app, and recognized it.”

  I nodded. “He didn’t tell me about it at first, but I had received texts warning me about you, and then I overheard your conversation. He told us then.”

  “Warning you? What did they say?”

  I thought back to the first couple of texts. “One said you weren’t who I thought you were. The other said you made the gatekeeper mad and you had to kill me. They were from a five-digit number that we traced to Boston.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about them sooner?”

  “At first I thought it was a prank, and then you left.”

  “And then you overheard my conversation and ran,” he surmised.

  I nodded. “Your high-ranking profile didn’t help. The one hundred percent completion didn’t inspire me to stick around.”

  His eyes widened. “How did you get in?”

  “Aaron made a profile.”

  Brett made a move to stand, forgetting the cuffs. He growled a curse. “He shouldn’t have gone on there! If the gatekeeper finds him—”