Bud (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 10)

by Candace Blevins

  “Agent Peretti.”

  “This is Nicole Daniels. Evil Shrek is at the resort I’m at. In Mexico.”

  “Are you safe?”

  “Marginally. Tyler’s hiring someone local to send to me for protection, and he’s working to get me on the first flight out of here back to the States.”

  “Where in Mexico?”

  “Cancun.”

  He asked which resort, she told him, and after a brief pause he said, “You’re fifteen minutes from the consulate. If you can get there, I can arrange for them to let you in.”

  “I think I’m safer staying put under the current circumstances, but I’ll keep it in mind if all the early morning flights are booked.”

  “Your call. Let me know if you want to take me up on it.” Another pause. “What phone are you calling from?”

  “A gentleman I met this week. I think I trust him to watch my back more than the resort security.”

  “I’ve seen you take care of yourself, Nicole, but the phone you’re using is a burner. Are you sure he isn’t a plant?”

  Bud didn’t give any indication he could hear the agent’s side of the conversation. Nicole only hesitated a few seconds before responding, “I had someone check him out. He isn’t stellar, but my gut tells me he doesn’t mean me any harm. Also, my people know his real name and where he lives. My suitcase was messed with while I was gone to the pool, and my phone was in it. I’ve turned it off for now and he offered the use of his.”

  “Okay. I’ll mobilize whatever staff we have in the area and see what we can do from this end.”

  She disconnected and looked at Bud. “I apologize if I’m bringing you to the attention of law enforcement when you’d rather not be.”

  “I have nothing to hide. It’s fine.” His business was finished here so it probably didn’t matter. It was never good for law enforcement to focus on him, but he wasn’t going to leave Nicole without protection. He looked at all her luggage and grimaced. “I travel light.”

  “Honestly? I do when I’m working, but I was so scattered when I was packing for this trip I just kept throwing things in suitcases.”

  “My advice is to pack what you need to get home into a carry-on, and have the resort ship everything else back to the States. You’ll probably come off cheaper that way than paying luggage fees, anyway.”

  “I’m not worried about the expense, but for safety reasons you’re probably right.”

  Nicole changed in the bathroom, and then tossed three outfits and her toiletries into a small duffel. Her computer, a few other techno-gadgets, and a couple of books went into a backpack, and along with her purse, she said she should be fine to travel home, even if there were detours.

  “Ten minutes. I’m impressed.” He looked at the stack of suitcases, but didn’t ask what else she’d brought.

  The man and woman in the bathing suits had been replaced with two men and another woman, dressed casually as if they were guests. They produced ID cards with their pictures to show they were hotel security, but Bud didn’t trust laminated pieces of paper.

  “How do we know you didn’t print and laminate those yourself, and then kill the real security guards and stash them in the stairwell?”

  “You don’t,” said one of the men, his Spanish accent thicker than most of the resort employees Bud had encountered. “We should get Miss Blackthorn to her new room.”

  Bud looked to the other two security guards, and the woman offered, “You could call our boss. I can give you the number.”

  Her scent wasn’t right, and Bud’s wolf rose up inside him. The animal didn’t like the woman, either.

  Bud shook his head, walked Nicole back inside the room, and locked the door. He called the front desk, asked for security, and then verified the names of the people.

  “We don’t employ people with these names, Señor.”

  “Look through the peephole,” he told Nicole. “See if they’re still there.”

  She looked and shook her head.

  “It seems they realized we figured them out,” Bud told security. “You’ll want to look over your video feeds to see what they did with your people. Also, if you send someone else, tell them to say the word pumpernickel, so we’ll know you sent them.”

  “I do not know this word.”

  Bud sighed. “Okay then, butterfly. Have them say the word butterfly, please.”

  “We’re going to my room,” Bud told Nicole once he’d disconnected. “No arguing. Let’s get out of here before hotel security arrives.”

  Bud had mapped out the resort’s many exits and connections over the years, and he quickly took Nicole through stairwells and obscure hallways, and they saw very few people as they traversed from one wing to another.

  “I’m almost embarrassed to admit I’d only mapped out a few escape routes from my room to the lobby and to an employee parking lot near the main road in case I needed to get away. I really thought I’d be safe here if I used this pen name.”

  “The fact you planned any escape options at all is impressive, if you thought you were safe. I know these routes because I’ve been to the resort several times and stayed in various wings. I always look for the best egresses, and the knowledge has accumulated.”

  “You don’t talk like a biker.”

  “Sometimes I do.”

  “Am I seeing the real you? I don’t want you to show me some refined version of you.”

  They were close to his room, so he waited until they were inside and he’d checked all hiding places before he told her, “I have a thick southern accent. I stand out when I use it away from home, and I don’t like standing out. I rarely use it when I’m traveling, but it’s how I speak at home. I can’t get rid of it completely, but I can tone it down. I’m not changing myself for you, but for the circumstances. You want to hear my real voice, you’ll need to visit me in Atlanta.”

  What the fuck had he invited her to Atlanta for? The last thing he needed was an investigative journalist hanging around, and his home was just a few miles from their bar and clubhouse.

  His phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize, but it was the Chattanooga area code so he answered instead of handing it to Nicole. However, as soon as the man asked for her, he handed it over. Had Nicole hired Drake Security? From what he knew of her, she’d want the best, so it was possible.

  He could hear both sides of the conversation, but waited for Nicole to tell him her options before he said anything.

  “The earliest flights he can get me on would be to Miami, Dallas, or Atlanta. He’s in New York, but can get someone to Atlanta in time to meet me when I come out of the airport. I’ll be on my own for a short time if I fly into Miami or Dallas.”

  Bud told her the airline he was flying and said, “If he can get you on a flight with them, I’ll change my ticket and go with you. Tell him to get you a seat beside an empty one and we’ll try to get me into it.”

  “I don’t want to cut your vacation short.”

  “It’s okay. Tell the man.”

  Bud called the girl who handled his flights, and twenty minutes later he and Nicole were booked in first class on a nonstop flight into Atlanta the next morning.

  Nicole had her guy on speaker by then, and he said, “Someone you’ve worked with before will meet you in the luggage area in Atlanta. I don’t know exactly who yet, but you’ll know them.”

  Bud felt more certain she was using Drake Security — the Chattanooga area code, the fact they could get someone to Atlanta quickly but not farther away, he decided to take a chance. “Tell Aaron that Bud from Atlanta’s with her. If he has Ranger or Mac available, that’d be great.”

  Five seconds of silence before, “If I ask Aaron to give you a reference, what will he say?”

  “I’m guessing he’ll say I’m a stand-up guy who takes care of his friends, but no one wants me as an enemy. You never really know what Aaron will say.”

  “A car will be at the resort to pick the two of you up at five tomorrow morning
. Nicole, take me off speaker a minute, please.”

  Bud heard him tell her, “I trust your gut, but if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. This guy makes me nervous. I don’t believe in coincidences, and you just happened to meet someone who knows the owner of the security company you use?”

  “Noted. My PI sent you his information hours ago. He’s aware of the fact you know where he lives and can find him.” She looked at the clock. “Seven hours until pickup. Do I need a code word?”

  “Same one we used in Somalia last year when you did the story on female genital mutilation.”

  “Got it. Okay.”

  Bud wanted to be honest with her about hearing both sides of the conversation, but worried she’d jump straight to comparing him to her werewolves again. She really had no reason to trust someone traveling on high-dollar fake paperwork, and he’d had to tell her to make sure she didn’t make a big deal of it when they went through security at the airport if she saw his passport. Still, she was right about knowing his real identity and his address. Her PI was good.

  He was looking for something to say when she disconnected, but she handed him his phone and said, “You’re friendlier with your travel agent than most. I’m not jealous, just curious if that’s your personality or if there’s a history.”

  “She’s an ol’lady.”

  At Nicole’s part confused and part outraged look, he chuckled. “Sorry, biker terminology. She’s the wife of one of my men. He’s my brother, so she’s family. That’s why she changed my flights so late in the evening and didn’t bitch — they’re an hour behind us, but it’s still pretty fuckin’ late to be calling a travel agent at home if they aren’t family.”

  She looked at the clock on his night table and shook her head. “I wish it were later, it’s going to be a long night.” With a sigh, she walked to one of his chairs and sat. “You can get some sleep if you want. I won’t sleep until we’re back in the States.”

  Bud finally had to acknowledge his wolf, because the animal inside him had decided he wanted this woman. She was practical, she watched her own back but when she needed help she called it in, and while she’d been flustered a few times, she hadn’t been a ridiculous female who fell apart in the face of danger. His wolf respected her, and so did he.

  And she was a fucking investigative journalist he’d invited to Atlanta.

  “Tell me about the people who’re after you.”

  “Human traffickers.” She touched a pocket and sighed. “I can’t get used to not having my phone. I was going to offer to send you my story on them.”

  “I’d rather hear it than read it.”

  The more she told of the story, the angrier Bud got. Ten-year-old babies kidnapped and sold into slavery. Kidnapped from rural homes and from the inner city — no one was safe. American kids sold to foreigners as sex slaves.

  “None of the traffickers speak English as their first language, and they tend to talk to each other in French, as I think it’s the only language they have in common. The word they use for their kidnappers translates into an acquisitionist, and each has their own tried and true method. One gets kids from malls, another scouts bus stops, another goes to places like skating rinks and carnivals. The group drives to a large city together, steals cars, and spreads out to different counties and municipalities so there aren’t a bunch of kids missing in the same area. They pick the cities and counties based on law enforcement numbers — they have this down to a science.”

  “Six or more kids go missing in adjacent counties, surely someone’s found that pattern?”

  “Not until I found it and took it to my FBI contacts, but knowing the pattern isn’t helping after the kids are acquisitioned and gone. There’s never more than five hours from when the first kid is taken until the last, and then they all meet up and leave the area with the kids drugged in the back of a truck.”

  Bud handed her his phone. “I need to see pictures of every one of the men you know about.”

  She waved his phone away. “It’ll be easier for me to do it from my laptop. I can just share a folder on my cloud.”

  Nickie could see him out of the corner of her eye, and it was hard not to turn and stare. Bud had returned to his sentry position, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his posture alert, his stillness absolute. He was the wolf, watching. Guarding.

  He was too damned sexy for his own good, and Nickie needed to remember he was a human man and not one of her fictional wolves.

  She did her best to ignore him and focus on getting him the information he’d asked for.

  “I’ll show them to you on the bigger laptop screen, and share them with you so you’ll have them to reference later.”

  “Full disclosure. I’m not likely to work with your FBI pals. I find these assholes, I’ll take care of them my way.”

  Nickie’s heart skittered in her chest as she remembered how his club had taken care of the rapists.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that. Going to prison for taking out the bad guys seems… wrong. I’d hate to be responsible.”

  Bud’s lopsided, cocky grin sent heat straight to her clit but she didn’t look away.

  “I’m good at covering my ass, and I’ll make sure you have plausible deniability. Just wanted to give you a heads up because as long as you follow my instructions, you’ll be safe when you’re with me — but I follow my own moral code and don’t worry so much about the legal one.”

  Nickie considered his wording before saying, “I’ve had to break the law in other countries a few times to get the job done, but the things I’ve done would’ve been legal in the U.S. It didn’t feel wrong — do you understand? It felt like I was in the right and the law was wrong.”

  Bud just looked at her and didn’t comment, and she shrugged. “I don’t know. I won’t lie for you if I think you’re in the wrong, and I won’t lie under oath no matter what. That’s the best I can give you, whether there’s plausible deniability or not.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. You said you’ve lived everywhere, tell me your favorite places.”

  The hours seemed to fly as the two talked. Bud skirted a good many of her questions, but answered more than she figured he would — especially since she hadn’t promised to keep their conversations off the record.

  He didn’t give her anything a magazine or paper would find interesting, but she felt as if she had the building blocks for biker culture by the time they made their way from the hotel room to the car Tyler had arranged.

  She’d learned a lot about Bud’s daughter and son-in-law, and respected him for the way he seemed to have raised his daughter. Nickie’s dad had also taught her how cars and bikes worked, how to shoot every gun in his personal arsenal, and how to defend herself.

  Nickie rarely talked about how living in non-democratic countries on and off while growing up had pushed her towards journalism, but Bud heard details she hadn’t even told men she’d lived with.

  When it was finally time to go, he looked them both over one last time before he opened the door to the hallway. They each wore a backpack, and he looped her duffel over his left shoulder and carried his suitcase in his left hand. She had her purse on her left shoulder, her pepper spray in her right pocket, and a pocketknife in her bra. She’d have to leave the pepper spray and knife in the car.

  “Hold my left arm,” he told her again. “Squeeze twice if something isn’t right, three times if you spot one of the traffickers.”

  Nickie was tired, but she stayed focused and alert on the walk from his room to the pickup point near the lobby. Bud’s walk was casual, but she felt as if she walked beside a predator — one intent on protecting her and not harming her, thank goodness, but it was still disconcerting. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and she desperately hoped she’d have a chance to play with this man at least once before they said their goodbyes.

  Thankfully, there were no issues on the way to the car, and she breathed in relief when they were a mile from the hotel
and no one seemed to have followed them.

  Bud patted her leg but didn’t say anything.

  Tyler had hired the driver and extra security, for which he’d later bill her, so she only needed to worry about the tip. She had money in her pocket, ready to pull out, but Bud beat her to it. She didn’t argue, but he was going out of his way to make sure she was safe and she wished he’d let her pay the expenses. He hadn’t even let her pay him for the fees to change his airline ticket.

  By the time they checked in and made it through security, Nickie was still on guard but breathing easier. She felt naked without any weapons, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “All that coffee. I need to use the restroom,” she told him as they entered their gate area to wait.

  “Okay, I’ll stay close. Watch your back.”

  “There are mirrors. I’ll be fine.”

  Airport restrooms are usually crowded, but there was only one person washing her hands when she entered. Nickie made eye contact in the mirror and nodded, and went into a stall. She heard a wheelchair rolling in and two women talking, and she grinned as her brain switched to Italian and she listened in on a conversation they obviously didn’t think anyone could understand. The women were lovers and it sounded as if the relationship was new and they were both love-struck.

  The woman in the wheelchair didn’t need to go, and she teased the other woman about her tiny bladder as the other went into a stall.

  Nickie came out and smiled at the woman, and then unsuccessfully tried to scream as cloth was pressed over her mouth and nose. Someone insanely strong was behind her, and the woman in the wheelchair loomed over her from the front. Nickie stopped breathing the instant she recognized the smell of chloroform. She elbowed the woman behind her and missed the mark, tried to stomp the woman’s foot but missed.

  The woman knew how to counter everything Nickie could throw at her, and Nickie cursed internally.

  Meanwhile, the woman in the wheelchair reached for her throat, and Nickie felt the needle in her neck seconds before her muscles went lax and she had no control over them. Terror squeezed her heart and adrenaline pumped fire into her veins, but with no way to fight, she had no choice but to breathe in the chloroform. The room blurred, sounds faded, and within thirty seconds she was out.