Chaos Bound (33 page)
“I came to give you shit ’cause you left your girl unprotected.”
“She’s not my girl.”
Shaggy snorted a laugh. “Anyone that spent more than five minutes in a room with you two would disagree. She pulled a fucking gun on Jagger for you, and you did the same for her. The two of you are like goddamned Bonnie and Clyde.”
Holt abandoned his surveillance and pushed himself to his feet. With the moon hidden behind the clouds, Shaggy was a dark shadow in front of him. And an irritating one at that. “What the fuck it is to you? You’ve barely said two words to me since I joined the club except to give me orders or ream me out for doing something wrong.”
“Someone had to come and line you up,” Shaggy said. “Tank’s still trying to get a grip on the fact his best bud might not come back to the MC, and the rest of the senior patch are getting ready for the rally. You got a girl who cares about you, she’s in danger, and you fucking ran away.”
“She’s safe in Conundrum, and she’ll be safe wherever she goes after I’m done what I gotta do here.”
Shaggy stroked his beard, gave Holt a considered look. “Arianne said she was a Black Jack. That true?”
“Her mother was a Black Jack sweet butt, Viper’s favorite. Naiya said he turned her mother into an addict to keep her tied to the club. Her mom never told Naiya who her dad was, but she said he was a Jack. She lived with her grandmother for a time then had to live with her mom. She left the club when she was fifteen. Never looked back until she returned home to go to her mother’s funeral and Viper caught her. So, no. She’s not a Jack. Never was a Jack. Never wanted to be a Jack.”
A pained expression crossed Shaggy’s face, but it was so fleeting Holt wasn’t sure if he’d seen it at all. “Rough life.”
“It’s worse than I told you,” Holt said, gritting his teeth. “And it means Viper’s got more to answer for than just what he did to me.” He gestured to the rifles. “He’s going down the minute he comes in range, and if he goes in the back, I’ll get him through the window.”
“How are you gonna get off the roof?” Shaggy swallowed, cleared his throat. “There will be over one hundred Jacks in town this weekend, not to mention their support clubs. You know Viper will have guards all over the block.”
“I’m gonna jump to the next building from the fire escape.” Holt pointed to the brick building beside them. “Then I’ll go down the stairs to the basement. I rented a mini van, filled it with sports equipment. Gonna put on a ball cap and pretend like I’m a civilian dad and drive myself outta town.”
“You’ll never make it.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.” Holt shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel in the least. “All I care is that Viper is dead. That’s what I lived for all those months in the dungeon. That’s what Naiya deserves.”
Shaggy walked across the roof and stared down at the road, fiddling with his ring, the gesture so like Naiya’s that Holt’s heart squeezed in his chest.
“You didn’t live in the dungeon,” Shaggy said. “You survived. I know someone who went through what you did. He came out of it a changed man. He lost his heart and soul. You don’t want to wind up like him, but if you leave Naiya, you will. A woman like that can save you. Maybe she already has.”
Holt joined him at the edge of the roof. By Friday, the main street would be a sea of headlights, everyone showing off their bikes before heading out to the campground for the real party. The rally organizers had booked a kick-ass headline band, and there would be all the booze, girls, and drugs a biker could ask for.
“You got something else to live for now.” Shaggy shoved his hands in his worn, frayed pockets. “You got a girl who loves you. You got a president who was so overjoyed to have you back that he forgot to give you a chance to breathe. You got a club full of brothers who sacrificed themselves to rescue you. You got the kind of friend a man only gets once in a lifetime—the most loyal man I’ve ever known—who doesn’t understand why you walked away from the club, and who’s gonna spend the rest of his days waiting for you to come back.”
Stunned, Holt just stared, trying to take it all in. Shaggy, the recalcitrant loner, the grouchy old timer with more miles under his belt than all of the MC combined, of all people, lecturing him, telling him Naiya loved him. That Jagger, the man he admired most in the world, had made a mistake. That Holt had meant something to the club. That Tank would never give up.
“She doesn’t want to be part of the club, Shag. And I totally get it. She had a shit time growing up. She had no one to protect her, no one to have her back, no one to care when Viper … well I can’t say what he did to her.”
Shaggy made a choked, strangled sound, and thudded his hand on the concrete ledge, like he’d just done a shot of Gunner’s moonshine. “We’ve let him live too long. First Evie. Now Naiya. Even the civilians aren’t safe from him anymore.”
“He didn’t break her,” Holt continued. “She’s strong. Strongest woman I know except for Arianne, but then she’s Viper’s daughter so you gotta be made of steel to survive that. Naiya turned away from all that shit, went to college and made something of herself. She’s a scientist now—she does forensic stuff like on the crime shows. She’s gonna get a job at a crime lab out of the state. She’s not part of our world, and I would never drag her back into it. It’s better that I leave her. For both of us. And for the club.” Except, coward that he was, he hadn’t been able to say goodbye. For all he knew, Naiya thought he was coming back.
“Yeah?” Shaggy’s eyes burned into his soul. “You think Viper’s gonna just leave her alone? Did he leave her alone after she escaped? What if you miss? What if they catch you? What if they shoot you in the fucking heart? Who’s gonna look after her then? Who’s gonna protect your girl from the fucking ATF agent who was sniffing around her hotel?”
“What the fuck? How did he find her? Where is she?” Fear and regret stabbed Holt in the gut. This was Lucy all over again. He’d left her unprotected and she’d died for his mistake.
“She’s safe at Rider’s.”
Holt drew in a relieved breath. “Tank will look after her.”
Shaggy walked across the roof, pausing to kick at some small shards of asphalt. “Yeah, he will. But is that what you want? And I’m asking this ‘cause long time ago, I fucked up. I had a girl, the other half of my soul, and I left her for something I thought was more important—my club. I broke her fucking heart. Abandoned her. She had no one, no protection, and it ended so fucking bad I can hardly breathe for thinkin’ about it.”
“Club first. That’s the life.”
“After all my years of livin’ the life, I can say that’s bullshit.” Shaggy thumped his chest. “Without heart you got nothing to give to the club. And I’ll tell you now, unless you want to wind up bitter and alone with a fucking beard you wear to pay for your sins, you gotta follow your heart.” His phone buzzed and he reached into his cut and pulled it out. “Don’t let Jagger know I said that. I’d never live it down.”
“So why did you tell me?” Holt kneeled and folded down the M24.
A pained expression crossed Shaggy’s face. “So you don’t make the same fucking mistake. So that another innocent girl doesn’t suffer.”
* * *
Naiya sipped her second vodka and tonic and checked the clock above the bar. If Tank wasn’t back in ten minutes, she was going out to look for Holt herself. Banks had let her use his phone to text Ally and Maurice her new location, but she couldn’t wait. The thought of Holt in a prison cell or a dungeon did strange things to her stomach, and she couldn’t just sit and let it happen.
“You want another?” Banks held up the bottle, and Naiya shook her head.
“I’m still working on this one. I’ve always liked to keep a clear head. Bad things happen when people drink too much.”
“Sensible.” Banks put away the bottle. “I rarely touch the stuff.”
“But you run a bar.”
Banks gave her a wink. “That’s just the day job.”
She wanted to ask about his night job, but his face shuttered quickly, and she took the hint. “Seems crazy for me to be applying for jobs in crime labs while I’m hanging out in an outlaw-biker bar.”
Banks took a bottle of vodka off the shelf. “Just as crazy as me saying the Sinners are good guys for a buncha outlaws. But you fuck with one of their own, and nothing will get in the way of their revenge. They got each other’s backs. A brother gets hurt, the club makes sure he gets the best medical care there is. A brother dies, and his family is taken care of for life. A brother falls on hard times, and the club is there to help him out. Civilians don’t look out for each other that way. So who’s good and who’s bad? Hard to draw that line in the sand.”
“There’s good and bad in everyone.” She toyed with her glass. So far the Sinners had been pretty decent for outlaws. They seemed to understand Holt’s emotional turmoil, and as far as she knew, there had been no fallout after the incident at the clubhouse. Sure some of them were rough and crude, and she had no doubt they were involved in illegal activities, but they were different from the Jacks. The Sinners were all about honor, loyalty and brotherhood.
Banks glanced over his shoulder and his eyes hardened. “You’re all kinds of good. And now you’re gonna have to be all kinds of brave ’cause there’s a suit in the doorway, who looks like law enforcement, and I’m guessing he’s here to cause trouble.”
Naiya looked back over her shoulder and her heart skipped a beat. “It’s the ATF agent from Trenton. I have to get out.” She stared straight ahead, gripped the bar. “Do you have a back exit?”
“You run and you might as well slap a sign on your forehead that says ‘Guilty.’ Banks cracked his neck from side to side. “You’re gonna have to play this one out, but I promise nothing’s gonna happen to you in this bar. He’s made the mistake of walking into Sinner territory and messing with a Sinner’s girl. Now he’s gonna pay the price.”
“Skyler.” He gestured to a young, blonde waitress at the end of the bar. “Your job is to make sure the fed’s glass is never empty. To do that, you’re gonna stand near him the entire time he’s here. He’ll be sitting at the bar, next to our girl, Naiya. If he gets up, you get in his way. If he moves to go anywhere except the door, you spill his drink. You clear on that?”
Skyler paled. “He’s a fed? What if he—?”
“He won’t,” Banks assured her. “Not unless you’ve been in contact with anyone back home.”
“No.” She shook her head violently. “The Sinners have been real good to me. I wouldn’t rat them out, and there’s no one at home I want to talk to.”
“Good girl.” His face softened, and for a moment Naiya wondered if there was something between them. But Skyler looked to be two or three years younger than her, and Banks was … Well it was hard to figure out how old he was. Thirty? Maybe a year or two less?
Naiya braced herself when she heard footsteps, the scrape of a stool beside her, the rustle of a suit, and the heavy stench of cologne.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes.” Naiya fought back a wave of nausea when Michael sat on the stool beside her, impeccably dressed in his “I’m-a-federal-agent-attire”—dark suit, white shirt, and tight smile. “What a coincidence.”
Michael lifted a dark eyebrow. “I thought you and your man were heading to Idaho Springs.”
“We’re taking the scenic route.” She unclenched her hands and placed them on the counter. No point giving away her anxiety that easily, although there was nothing she could do about the sweat beading on her brow.
“What can I get you?” Banks asked Michael with a scowl. “We got a cop special on today. Water. Wet.”
“Perrier. Ice and a slice of lemon.” Seemingly unfazed by Banks’ calling him out, Michael smiled. “I’m on duty.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Banks muttered.
Naiya stared at the counter while Banks prepared the drink, wondering if Michael would indeed chase her if she ran.
“Where is…?” Michael hesitated. Frowned. “Was it your husband? Boyfriend? I don’t remember his name. Just that you had five kids.” He stared pointedly at Naiya’s stomach, and she pooched it out like she’d just had a big meal.
“Four,” she said, quickly. What an idiot trying to pull the same trick on her. “He went … out … to get me … anti-nausea medicine.” Since she was about to throw up and was no doubt pale and clammy, the lie would no doubt carry a ring of truth.
“Alcohol, medicine, and babies don’t mix.” Michael tapped her vodka glass and Naiya swallowed past the lump in her throat. God, she really needed that drink now.
“It’s water.”
“In a highball glass?” He reached for her drink. “Mind if I have a sip. I’m parched.”
“I’ll freshen it up for you.” Skyler reached between them and grabbed the glass. “Actually, I’ll just get you a new glass.” She smiled at Michael. “And you, too.”
Michael’s lips quirked amused. “My apologies. I didn’t think it would be untoward since we’re friends.”
“We’re not friends,” Naiya snapped.
“Hmmm.” Michael stroked his chin. “Well, I hope we’re not enemies. We had such a nice chat the other night in Trenton. You were wearing that cute Bolton Beaver sweatshirt. You know, I liked it so much that I drove down to Bolton so I could buy one for my nephew. It’s his twenty-second birthday next week.”
Naiya drew in a deep breath, gritted her teeth. He was still fishing for information, but there was no damn way he was getting anything from her. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Well, it would have been.” Michael sighed. “But I couldn’t get one the right size. It seems the only place you can buy them is at the Yates Motel, and they sold the last of their supply to a woman with dark hair and hazel eyes who was the exact same size as my nephew.”
“That’s a shame.” Her hand trembled. Banks poured a glass of water and pushed it across the counter, his fingers brushing over hers in a fleeting gesture that did much to calm her nerves.
You are not alone.
“Holt! Holt!”
Holt parked his bike outside Rider’s Bar and gestured to Shaggy to wait as Ally ran across the street with a pasty-faced dude in tow. Where the fuck was Doug and why was he letting his woman run around in a biker town unprotected?