Ruthless (Nomad Outlaws Trilogy Book 1)

by Tory Richards

"Not going to argue with you there," she agreed. "I just wish he'd stop letting his past get in the way and put a ring on it."

  That was an interesting remark. "What sort of things from his past are getting in the way?" I'd heard that he had an unsavory past before he’d bought the bar. I knew that he'd been in prison for almost killing the man who'd raped Stevie. In my book, that had been justified, though. The man who'd raped Stevie had turned out to be a serial rapist, his youngest victim had only been ten. Vinny was a hero in my eyes.

  Stevie shrugged, still smiling. "He thinks he's not good enough."

  I rolled my eyes. "But he’s good enough for you to sleep with, right? What is it with these men who think like that? We've all done things that we're not proud of, we all have pasts, but we also deserve to be happy and to have a good life. Even if it does mean that we love an asshole."

  She burst into laughter, and soon I joined in. Rebel could be an asshole when he wanted to be, and he felt the same way about himself as Vinny did. He wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen, and he was bossy and rough around the edges, but I wanted him anyway. I wanted to move in with him. I wanted his baby.

  I wanted his baby?

  Suddenly, the image of a little dark-haired boy with blue eyes entered my thoughts, a mini Rebel running through the house at a hundred miles an hour, leaving behind an echo of giggles and a big mess. Wow. That was the first time that I'd ever allowed myself the thought of actually having a family. I wanted that with Rebel. I wanted it all. And why couldn't we have it?

  A small sound coming from Della quickly sobered us, and we glanced at her to see that she was grimacing, obviously in the throes of a bad dream. I suddenly felt guilty for laughing and thinking about my future while she was lying in a hospital bed, beat to hell. I reached for her hand and took it in mine, hoping the small, comforting touch would calm her. I squeezed her hand gently, and after a minute she stopped fidgeting.

  I relaxed back in my chair, keeping hold of her hand. "Rebel said he had a lead on Daryl," I spoke softly, glancing to where Stevie was sitting. "I think he's on his way there now."

  Understanding shone in her green, thickly lashed eyes. Before she could say anything there was a light tap on the partially closed door.

  "Yes?"

  The door opened and a man walked in. There was a welcoming smile on his clean-shaven face, but it didn't quite meet the brown of his eyes. He was dressed in a neat suit, his brown hair slicked back with product. Seeing Skipper behind him and the wink that he gave me helped alleviate the sudden nervousness I felt at their unexpected arrival. He was hovering protectively, and I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to us.

  "Hi." The stranger held his hand out toward me. "Detective Benson, I'm investigating Miss Murray's attack." His gaze shifted to Della briefly before returning to me.

  "Ginger Pruitt," I smiled back, shaking his hand.

  He glanced expectantly at Stevie.

  "Stevie Nicks," she said. "Not the singer, obviously." They shared a laugh.

  He glanced again at Della. "How is she doing?"

  I heard the sincerity in his tone, understanding that at the same time it was a formality. He could hardly jump right in with his questions without at least inquiring about the victim first. It would have made him seem like an insensitive bastard. "She's still in a lot of pain, they're keeping her sedated."

  He nodded, turning to me. "And what is everyone’s relationship to Miss Murray?" He included Stevie and Skipper with a look.

  "Della works at Pirate's Cove with me," Stevie was quick to reply. "We're just work friends, we don't associate much outside of work." I almost smirked at how quickly she had replied, leaving little reason for the detective to question her further.

  The detective rested his gaze on Skipper. It was obvious from the way that he dressed that he was a biker, and his cut revealed that he was in the Sentinels. Skipper finally shrugged and said, "I'm Ginger's friend, just here to offer support." His lips quirked as if he found this funny.

  It was obvious from the detective's expression that he didn't believe Skipper, but he didn't press him. He turned to me expectantly.

  "Della and I are best friends. We work together and live right across the hall from each other."

  He raised a brow and took out a pen and small pad. "The officers who brought Miss Murray in weren't able to get anything out of her, other than that she didn't know her attacker. She was too out of it, and then they had to rush her into surgery. Has she said anything to you that might help us?"

  "She sleeps most of the time," I answered truthfully.

  "So do you have any idea who did this to her?"

  "Yes," I responded. Skipper crossed his arms, the movement drawing my attention to him and the warning look in his narrowed eyes. He didn't need to worry, I had no intention of giving up Daryl to the police. "A fucking coward." Skipper's mouth turned up into a grin, while Detective Benson's turned down in disappointment. It was obviously not the answer he'd been expecting.

  "The responding police said the call came in from a Michael Woods, do you happen to know him?"

  Yes, intimately. "Yes. He's a‒" A what? A nomad? My lover? My partner? "Friend," I finally settled on. I could tell by the speculative gleam in the detective's eyes that he suspected that we were more.

  "Mr. Woods called it in. Any reason to think that he might be the attacker and Miss Murray is protecting him?"

  That made me angry and I snapped, "No!" before I could stop myself. I immediately calmed down, realizing that sounding defensive would only make him more suspicious. "They barely know one another."

  Nodding, he made some notes in his little pad. "I understand that the attack occurred in your apartment, but you weren't there?”

  "No." I hated lying, God, I hated it, but it was necessary if Rebel was going to find Daryl and make him pay for what he'd done without bringing suspicion to himself. Sure, he was connected to Della's attack simply by being there and phoning it in, but the police didn't know that Daryl was her attacker. I shot a nervous glance at Stevie and Skipper. Skipper gave me a wink.

  "How did she get in?"

  "We both have a key to each other's apartments, but I sometimes forget to lock my door when I leave. Della probably thought I'd be there to help her." That was the truth, and came out naturally.

  "Forgetting to lock your door can be dangerous," Detective Benson advised. "Especially in that neighborhood. I'm glad you weren't home, or you might have ended up like Miss Murray."

  A chill came over me when I realized how I may have ended up, had Daryl had his way. I just smiled when he glanced up from his pad, hoping that he'd finish up soon and leave. Della moaned, drawing our attention, but she didn't move, and after a moment he said, "Well, if you can think of anything else, please call me." He handed me his business card. "I'll come back in a couple of days, hopefully by then Miss Murray will be more alert and will be able to talk."

  "I will. Please keep us informed of the investigation."

  He made eye contact with everyone in the room. "Nice meeting you. I'll be in touch."

  He left the door slightly ajar, the way that he'd found it. Skipper got to his feet to follow him.

  "I thought he'd never leave."

  Della! Her eyes were open, and there was the beginning of a smile on her swollen face. I got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "How are you feeling, honey?" Stevie moved up next to the bed, too.

  "A little better than yesterday."

  "It's gonna take time, honey," Stevie said, leaning over to kiss her on the other cheek. "But each day will get better."

  Della nodded. "I know. Have they said when I can go home?"

  "Don't rush it," I said, wanting to laugh in spite of it.

  She just nodded. "Daryl?"

  The fear in her eyes broke my heart. Stevie was on the other side of the bed, and we exchanged a quick look. I squeezed Della's hand to reassure her. "You don't have to worry about him, honey. Rebel and Vinny and a whole bunch of other pe
ople are looking for him. And one of Rebel's friends from the Sentinels is always here keeping watch, so you're never alone."

  I could tell from the way that her expression relaxed that this eased her worries. She gave a soft sigh of relief. "I hate him."

  "We all feel that way," Stevie agreed. "Are you comfortable? Can we get you anything?"

  "Just a little pain, but I'm good."

  A little pain. I knew that she was downplaying her situation. Even I could see that the slightest move hurt her.

  Skipper came back into the room and walked directly to the bed next to Stevie. "Well, hey there, darlin', you're awake." His full-faced smile transformed him from the stern, unfriendly-looking biker into a handsome, caring man. It also took away from the scariness of his large, threatening frame. I gave him kudos for going out of his way to set Della's mind at ease.

  "Della, this is Skipper, one of the Sentinels I was telling you about."

  "I know," she murmured, surprising me. "We met earlier this morning." She didn't take her gaze off him as she spoke.

  Oh. That didn't surprise me, but the electric current that I felt running between Della and Skipper did. I wondered if Stevie was feeling the same vibes that I was. I stared at Skipper as he stared down at Della, searching for a sign that would convince me that this was just his normal way of dealing with the sick and wounded, and not that he was interested in Della, which was impossible, because they'd only met that morning.

  Then I thought about Rebel and how quickly we'd felt connected from the beginning. I knew it was possible, that Rebel and I weren't exclusive in that regard, but I wasn't sure that I liked it. Skipper seemed like a nice enough man, but Della was going to need time to heal. There wouldn't be time for another man in her life until much later. Maybe I was reading too much into the way that he was looking down at her, but then, looking at Della, I realized that she was staring up at him in the same way.

  "The nurse attacked her with a needle and I had to rescue her," Skipper joked.

  The glance Stevie suddenly gave me revealed that she'd noticed that there was something going on between the two of them also. She gave a little shrug, and then the silence was interrupted by a loud grumble. Embarrassed when all eyes shot my way, I covered my belly, as if to drown out any more sounds.

  "Someone is hungry," Stevie laughed.

  I held my hand up. "Guilty."

  "Go eat something." I wasn't expecting Della to dismiss me so quickly.

  "You just woke up!" I laughed.

  "I promise you this won't be the only time I'm awake," she joked, and it was like a balm to my heart to hear how normal she sounded all of a sudden.

  "Well, okay, then. I know when I'm not wanted."

  "Ready to go to lunch? My treat," Stevie offered, walking back to the sofa to retrieve her purse.

  I definitely was.

  Chapter 28

  Rebel

  Son of a bitch!

  Daryl wasn't at his uncle's garage, and there was no uncle there, either. The only worker in the tiny, run-down garage was a bony old coot who was missing half of his teeth, wearing faded, greasy overalls and a t-shirt that might have been white at one time. Ace and I found him bent over the engine of an old station wagon, a long, thin braid running down his back, and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He must have been half-deaf, because he didn't acknowledge the sound of our bikes or realize that we were approaching until we were upon him. Ace flanked one side, while I flanked the other. I put my hand on the old man's shoulder to get his attention.

  "Hey, old man."

  He jumped back with a grunt, losing the cigarette. "What the fuck?! You trying to give an old man a heart attack?" he snarled, bending to pick up his still burning smoke. "What do you want?"

  The first thing I noticed was the shiner he was sporting. His tone wasn't too friendly either, and I had a feeling that we weren't going to get much out of him.

  "Some information," Ace answered.

  The old man jumped, swinging around. "Christ. How many of you are there?"

  "Just the two of us. We're friends, looking for Daryl." An immediate frown creased his brow. "You seen him?"

  I didn't expect to get an honest answer out of him, but he surprised me by admitting, "Yeah, earlier. He ain't here now."

  "You the only one working?"

  He looked back at Ace. "Yeah. So? I been working at this garage since it opened forty years ago. I know what I'm doing."

  I grinned. "Calm down, old man, we don't mean any disrespect." I gauged his age to be around seventy. "Do you know where Daryl went? We were supposed to meet him."

  He narrowed his grey eyes and stared at me long and hard. He was making up his mind as to whether or not we could be trusted. If he'd worked that long for Daryl's uncle, he owed loyalty to the family at the very least.

  "Nope. Left here ‘bout an hour ago, right before the other two bikers showed up."

  That interested me. I doubted that it was anyone from the Sentinels since Ace was with me. I took a chance. "The Kings?"

  "Yeah, that was them," he confirmed. "Two ugly motherfuckers." He paused. "Out for trouble, just like you two." He puffed on his cigarette until it was down to the filter. I had to give the old man credit, he wasn't afraid to say what he felt. "I gave them the same thing I'm giving you--nothin'."

  Well, that explained his black eye. The Kings obviously hadn't taken his age into consideration when they'd questioned him. I wondered how Daryl had known that they were coming, unless his absence was pure coincidence.

  "You two gonna blacken my other eye?" There was a challenge in his cigarette-roughened voice.

  Ace snorted and turned toward our bikes, clearly making the call that we weren't going to get anything useful from the old man. I decided to give it one last shot. "Have any idea when Daryl will be back?"

  "Nope." He dropped his butt and ground it beneath his shoes. Buying time, I thought. "If you and Daryl are such good friends, why don't you call him?"

  I grinned, deciding that Ace was right. "I just might do that," I replied, turning away.

  Ace was sitting on his bike, smoking a cigarette. "What now? Back to Jack’s?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. The fucker gave us the uncle. I'd let him piss on my boots again for another lead." We both grinned. "And I doubt Daryl will be back here, now that he knows the Kings have found him." I ran my hands through my hair, releasing a frustrated breath. "Fuck, man, I just want to find the asshole and end him."

  "I know where you're coming from," Ace said, but he didn't elaborate. He tossed his cigarette, and we started our bikes and tore out of the gravel drive back onto A1A.

  It took us twenty minutes to get back to where Jack lived. As we drove toward the back of the complex where his apartment was located, I noticed that his Camaro wasn't where it had been when we'd come earlier. Shit! Ace pulled up next to me and we exchanged a look.

  "You think he ran?"

  I searched the area around us, until my eyes lit on what I'd been looking for. A faded Chevy s10, blue, with gray primer on the passenger side door, Ginger had said. "Son of a bitch!" I swore, looking back at Ace. "He's with Daryl." I nodded in the direction of the truck. "That's his vehicle."

  "Fuck, now he knows we're looking for him, too."

  "Apparently Jack didn't take my threats seriously." I curled my fists angrily. I'd already pegged Jack as a weak pussy. It probably hadn't taken much for Daryl to convince him to do what he'd wanted.

  "Maybe you've lost your touch, brother." I shot Ace the bird. He snorted. "We staying here or we going to go looking for them?"

  "We go looking."

  Suddenly he reached for his phone. Ace didn't say much, but I watched his reaction. It looked hopeful. "There's been an accident. Looks like we're going to Tomoka Farms Rd."

  ****

  Ginger

  "That was good."

  Stevie nodded in agreement. "Not bad for hospital food."

  We'd both had the cob salad and iced
tea. I scooted my chair back and stood up. "I think I'll get a sandwich for Skipper, but first I need to use the ladies’ room. I'll be right back."

  It was just after one, and the cafeteria was full of hospital staff and visitors. I even saw a patient or two come in, but most of them got something and left right away. I guessed that they didn't want to get caught sneaking out of their rooms for better food, or perhaps food that they weren't supposed to have. There were several food stations, each offering something different. The line in front of the pasta station revealed that it was the most popular item, the sushi bar not so much. To save time, Stevie and I had grabbed pre-made salads. As I walked toward the restroom, my gaze caught on the pudding selections where the pre-packaged food was. I hadn't had pudding in years, and I thought that maybe I would pick one up on my way back.

  Seeing the sign for the ladies’ room, I headed in that direction. I was just about to push the door in when the men's room door opened and a man walked out. Our gazes met, and I returned his friendly smile, noticing the tattoo peeking out from his collar. He was tall, thin, and bald, wearing blue scrubs that identified him as hospital staff. Our interaction was so fleeting that it barely registered, but as I stepped inside the ladies’ room I realized that there had been something vaguely familiar about him. I racked my brain as I took care of business, trying to figure out what it was about him before I ultimately chalked it up to someone I'd run into at some time or another in the hallway, or even the elevator.

  I washed my hands and opened the door, coming to an abrupt halt, surprised that the man was still there, pacing back and forth and looking slightly agitated. He stopped when he noticed me standing there.

  "Are you Ginger?" he rushed out in a tone that revealed that something was very wrong.

  "Yes," I nodded, concern knitting my brow.

  "Come with me!" Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed me by the arm and was leading me away. "I didn't just want to go into the restroom and assume you were alone," he went on in a slightly panicked voice. "I was on my way back to my table when a woman rushed over to me to say that there's been an accident."