Roadhouse (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 5)

by Victoria Danann

  At least a dozen expletives were trying to explode from Brash’s mouth at maximum volume, but for Raze’s sake, he kept the lid on.

  “Okay. We’re on the road headed toward Lafayette. Keep us posted.”

  Raze was driving, trying not to think about what could happen to Clover if the bounty hunter found her first. He happened to glance at the clock and felt a little shock run through his system. It was twelve thirty. He’d completely forgotten about the roadhouse, which had been his entire life just a few days ago.

  “Luke was supposed to call when he was ready for me to come set the alarm,” he told Brash. “I need to use your phone.”

  It shook him that he’d forgotten about what was going on at the roadhouse. He’d come to terms with the fact that he wanted stray girl for more than a pass-through thing. But he hadn’t thought in terms of having fallen for her.

  In a week’s time.

  He wasn’t sure he thought it was possible to love somebody, really love them, in such a short time, but if that’s what fate had given him, he wasn’t backing away from it.

  Luke’s cell number was in the phone that Clover had with her. So Raze called the roadhouse land line. There was a phone in the office and an extension in the bar that didn’t ring, but did light up. Everything depended on Luke being where he could see it.

  “Roadhouse,” Luke answered after three rings.

  “Luke,” Raze said.

  “Tried to call, boss.”

  “Yeah. Lost my phone. So listen up.”

  Two years before, he’d run the same background check on Luke that he ran on everybody interviewing who’d be handling cash and credit cards. Looked clean, but giving over the security codes was a whole other universe. He’d never given the code to anybody. And yet he didn’t hesitate to tell Luke where to find a spare key in the office, what the code was, and walk him through how to set the alarm.

  As he was giving away the keys to the kingdom, he was thinking he’d gladly have all the money and hard work go up in smoke to get stray girl back unharmed.

  “If I’m not back tomorrow when it’s time to set up, you know how to do it?” Pause. “Okay, then. I guess you just got yourself a promotion to manager.” Pause. “If something comes up, call this number.”

  “This is a land line. I don’t know the number you’re callin’ from.”

  “Right.” Raze handed the phone to Brash. “He needs to write down your cell number.”

  Brash gave Luke his number and ended the call.

  Thibaut Le Cocq had something in common with the SSMC. He, too, was spreading the word that he was looking for someone who fit Clover Fields’ description. Someone who was probably wearing a blue Thin Lizzy tee that read Bad Reputation.

  He let the Stars and Bars know that, if they intercepted her before he did, he’d split the bounty with them. Right down the middle. Fifty fifty. Since they weren’t previously engaged, they were glad to accept the mission, especially when they heard how much money was involved.

  Because he was interested in making an example of Clover Fields, the owner of the money that had been stuffed into her gym locker had offered a bounty equal to what was taken. He would pay for the pleasure and principle of maintaining his reputation, even if he didn’t recover the money from the girl.

  To a one percent club like the SBMC that was rarely invited to engage in money-generating activity without risk of jail time, the offer was exceptionally attractive.

  “Just in case she can’t pay back what she stole,” he told Lock, “the client is going to get his money back some other way. So I’m not just needin’ her alive. No marks.”

  Lock chuckled. “We’ll treat her like blown glass.”

  “Do that very thing,” Le Cocq said in punctuation, just to make it over abundantly clear that he wasn’t kidding.

  Within minutes Lock was martialing Stars and Bars. Every available member was expected to ride west in formation on a quest to nab a wanted girl worth fifty thousand fucking dollars.

  CHAPTER Fourteen THE DEVILS YOU KNOW

  The gas tank was almost full when Clover left Dripping Springs, but by the time she got to Channelview she practically had to coast into Buc-ee's on fumes. She would have preferred a place that wasn’t so big and busy, but it was the only one that kept doors to restroom and coffee open in the middle of the night.

  She used the Ladies’, drew an extra large extra bold coffee, doused it with creamer, and grabbed snacks with lots of sugar to help keep her awake. Just to be on the safe side, she also bought four twenty-ounce Red Bulls thinking that caffeine overdose couldn’t be worse than being turned over to a crime family that had inferred her next stop would be the sex traffic auction block.

  After setting the items in her arms and hands down on the cashier’s counter, she said, “I also need to fill up and I’m paying cash.”

  “Okay,” said the woman working the register. “How you doin’ this evenin’?”

  “Alright,” Clover said, not feeling much like making new friends.

  “That’ll be seventeen twenty-three.”

  Clover handed over two ten dollar bills and got her change. “Okay. Can you turn on the pump on eight? Give me sixty dollars’ worth?” She counted out another six ten-dollar bills and handed them over.

  “Sure thing.”

  All the time she was pumping gas she was looking around for any indication that someone was overly interested in her. When the pump stopped, she quickly got behind the wheel. The tank was almost full. More than enough to get to Lafayette and figure out what to do next.

  She turned the music up loud again knowing that high volume tunes and strong coffee was a good combination for staying alert.

  As it happened, Stars and Bars member, Smoke Oakley, had been visiting a sister to see a brand new nephew in Baytown when he got the call that his MC was scouring the interstate corridor, west to east between Houston and Lafayette, looking for a girl in a Thin Lizzy tee. Like all Stars and Bars members, Smoke knew that route as well as his own name. Which wasn’t really Smoke. Since bikes need to be fed every hundred and seventy-five miles or so, he was also familiar with the stops along the way and which ones were open for restrooms and food between midnight and six. Not many.

  When you cut that number to just those on the eastbound side of the four lane, checking them out was doable. And the first one was right there in Baytown.

  There were three cashiers working at Buc-ee’s, which was lit up like midday.

  He asked for a pack of smokes. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  The woman behind the counter smiled at the endearment. She wasn’t the recipient of flirtation very often and Smoke was fairly good at it. He often quoted Bob Seger, “Ain't good lookin', but you know I ain't shy. Ain't afraid to look a girl

  in the eye.”

  He smiled. “I was supposed to meet my girlfriend down the road, but my phone’s dead.” He held up the back of his phone like he was submitting evidence, then quickly put it away in his pocket. “She might’ve stopped in here a little while ago. Real cute and wearin’ a blue tee shirt. Bad Reputation on it?”

  He knew by the way she blinked that he’d hit pay dirt. He remained outwardly calm, but was feeling like he’d won the lottery on the inside. His prez was going to see him in an entirely different light. The way he deserved to be seen. As vice-president material.

  “Yeah. The red Jeep? Paid cash to fill it up about an hour or so ago.”

  He grinned at the lady. “Thanks, darlin’. You made my night.”

  She smiled.

  He winked and turned on his heel. As soon as he was outside the building, he was dialing Lock.

  “She’s two hours from Lafayette, drivin’ a red Jeep.”

  Clover had just passed a sign that said Lafayette thirty-two miles when she finished the last of her coffee. When she looked down to set the empty cup aside, she remembered the phone. Fishing in the oversized purse that sat on the passenger seat beside her, she found it and said, “Shit,
” when she saw there was a message.

  She listened and hit call back.

  “It’s your phone,” Brash said.

  Raze took the phone, swiped to answer, and growled, “Why didn’t you answer?”

  “Sorry. I had the music turned up.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I, um… why?”

  “Why do you think? ‘Cause I’m coming for you.”

  “You are not.”

  “Yes. I. Am.”

  She bit her bottom lip. Once it turned out that the shit fest wasn’t going to go away as easy as it sounded the way Raze told it, she’d made a decision to keep him and his business out of it. Even if it meant taking her medicine.

  It was evident that he liked her, but she didn’t have any concrete reason to think he liked her enough to come after her.

  “No. I’m leaving you out of this.”

  “Too late. I’m in it. So be a good girl and tell me where you are. Right now.”

  “I just passed a sign that said thirty-two miles to Lafayette.”

  “Okay. Gonna figure out a safe place for you to wait for me. Gonna call you back in a minute and tell you where. You gonna answer the phone when I call?”

  She bit her bottom lip again. “Yes.”

  “Seems like you’re a lot of trouble, stray girl.”

  “That’s exactly why I want you out of this, Raze.”

  “Not an option. I’m countin’ on you to pick up when I call you back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Yes. It’s a promise.”

  He ended the call and handed the phone back to Brash. “I need a place where she can wait for us for… an hour if we keep makin’ this time and don’t get stopped.”

  Brash took the phone and called Brant who, in turn, called Just Batiste.

  “She’s a little less than half an hour out. Needs a place safe to wait for my people. What’s open at this time of night and busy enough to discourage certain elements from drawing attention to themselves?”

  “Waffle House on the south side. Exit Louisiana. Before she gets to Pont des Mouton. We’ll keep people posted along I10. If we see her, yes, we’ll give her an escort straight to our home. If no, at least ten of us will be waiting to bring her with us. I will personally drive her. Is she beautiful?”

  “That is not funny.”

  Batiste laughed. “Joking. She is safe with Devils.”

  “Holdin’ you to that. And, in case it’s not understood. I owe you.”

  Batiste laughed. “Oh oui. Most sure was understood.”

  Brash answered as soon as the face of his phone lit, before it made a sound. “Yeah.”

  “Batiste says for her to go to the Waffle House. It’s on I10 on the south side. Tell her to get off at Louisiana. The Devils have eyes on 10. If they see her and can catch her, they’ll give her an escort to their facility. If not, there’ll be at least ten waiting to take her to the club.”

  Brash relayed the information then dialed Raze’s phone and handed it to him. When it rang three times, he said under his breath, “Come on. Make the right choice and pick the fuck up.”

  “Hello?” she said.

  He closed his eyes with relief for as long as he dared while speeding along at ninety-two miles per hour.

  “We have a plan. Go to the Waffle House. You’re just twenty minutes away now. Probably. It’ll be on your right. Get off at Louisiana. And now listen. ‘Cause this is important. There are bikers out there, friends of ours, who are lookin’ for you. If they see you before you get to the Waffle House, they’ll try to overtake you and give you an escort. So don’t be afraid. They’re gonna take you to their club. You’ll be safe till we get there. If they don’t see you or don’t catch you, there’ll be others waitin’ to take you to the club.”

  “Okay.”

  “You got all that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m right here. If there’s anything you’re not sure about, call me.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s all gonna be okay.”

  She smiled in the darkness at his attempt to reassure. Raze was surprisingly nurturing for a wall of muscle, hard-edged biker-roadhouse owner. He couldn’t see her smile, of course, but he did hear the big breath she took in, like she was summoning determination. Or courage. “Right. Later.”

  Thibaut Le Cocq pulled into the Big T truck stop when he reached the first exit to Lafayette, and called the Stars and Bars prez.

  “Lock,” he answered. He was sitting on the deck of an Irish dive bar where he could keep an eye on his bike. It wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where University of Louisiana Ragin’ Cajuns were likely to go for off campus fun. But it was exactly the kind of place where Lock felt at home.

  They were closed, of course. But it was as good a place as any to use as a half ass command center. He’d used the cutter he kept in his saddlebags to break the chain that kept deck chairs from disappearing overnight, pulled the top one off the stack and made himself comfortable.

  “What’ve you got?”

  Lock gave a low and humorless chuckle. “We might know somethin’. But you’ve given us fifty thousand spendable reasons not to share too early.”

  A muscle ticked in Thibaut’s jaw. “Well. Let’s amend the deal then. If you know where she is, let me in on it. I’ll still honor the split. I’d rather see you with half than me with nothin’.”

  “Alright then,” Lock drawled. “She should be pullin’ into the parish at any time now. Drivin’ a red Jeep. I’ve got people posted on I10, keepin’ an eye out. Don’t know where she’s headed, but we will pick her up and when we do, we won’t lose her.”

  After the first phone contact with Raze, Clover had slowed way down. Once she’d decided to stop blocking Raze’s attempts to help, she reasoned that it made sense to slow down and give him a chance to catch up.

  When she saw the first Lafayette exit, for Lafayette Parish and Acadia Parish, she decided to get off and go the rest of the way on the access road. That way she’d be sure to not miss the Waffle House. And since she wasn’t in a big hurry…

  While the Sons, the Stars, and the Devils all had people looking at I10, it was essentially impossible to spot a particular car. Headlights. Tail lights. Trucks. But picking out a particular SUV when most of the vehicles that were not trucks were SUVs? Unlikely at best.

  So the plan to post eyes at the exits to Lafayette was a good one. The access roads were lit by street lights at the points of exits and vehicles had to slow or stop for traffic lights. That particular exit had a gas station convenience store on the northwest corner, another one just like it with a different name on the southwest corner, and a Whataburger on the southeast corner.

  In the parking lot shadows of each of those enterprises was a member of a motorcycle club, waiting idly but alert, watching for a red Jeep. None of the three were aware of the others until Stars and Bars roared in behind Clover as she slowed to stop at the red light.

  Eric, from the SSMC, and the Cajun Devil, who’d illegally crossed four lanes and run a red light, pulled in behind Clover and the other biker. The two acknowledged each other with a nod. As they waited for the light, the Devil pulled out his phone, tapped it, and gave a hand signal he hoped would be understood, for his SSMC counterpart to call in the good news that they had the woman and the bad news that she had a Stars and Bars tail.

  Eric did understand.

  When the light changed, he went through then pulled over and called Brant.

  Aware of the other two bikers, Stars and Bars went around Clover, planning to stop at the next exit and call Lock with the news without losing sight of the Jeep.

  “Boss,” he said. “I got her on the access road, but we’re not alone. Two other bikers are on us.”

  “WHAT OTHER BIKERS?” Lock stormed.

  “Couldn’t see their colors. You want me to stay on her or drop back and try to find out?”

  Lock growled, “Stay on her
.” He ended the call and dialed up his VP who said, “Bunch of Devils were seen hanging out at the Waffle House. You think there’s a connection?”

  “Fuck. Yes. I think there’s a connection.”

  Lock ended the call, but alerted every one of his guys to move toward the Waffle House. Since he was a suspicious son of a whore, he’d made every member in the club subscribe to Life 360 so that he could see where they were every minute of the day.

  He got a fix on the bike following the target, stepped off the bar deck and threw a leg over his Harley. But there was one more thing to do before he headed over to see what the night would bring. He called Le Cocq. “You think you can find the Waffle House?”

  Clover slowed and stopped at the next light. Her headlights were shining directly on the Stars and Bars cut.

  She dialed Raze.

  He answered. “Here.”

  “I’m at a stop light on the access road. There’s a biker in front of me. He’s got one of those Confederate flag things on the back of his jacket. Is that who I’m supposed to go with?”

  Raze’s heart was starting to race and his breathing was getting heavier.

  “What the hell is it?” Brash demanded.

  “She’s got Stars and Bars on her.”

  “Tell her to keep goin’ to the Waffle House. Our people will be there.”

  “Alright. Listen sugar. Just keep goin’ until you get to the Waffle House. Our people will be there. Cajun Devils. Their colors look like a blue demon. Some or all of the Sons will probably be there, too. Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered. Just don’t pull over. No matter what. If he tries to force you over to the side of the road or make you stop, you just keep goin’ even if you have to run over him and his bike. Your Jeep’ll do that for you if you ask. When you get to the Waffle House, find the Devils and stay with them.”

  “Okay.”

  He hated the fact that her voice sounded shaky. She was there and he wasn’t.

  Brash called Brant as soon as he had the phone in his hand. Brant had already gotten the call from Eric and relayed the information to Batiste and Arnold, who was in charge of the SSMC arm of the operation until Brash was on the scene.