Love Ties (19 page)

“He wanted us to deliver a package to a guy in Heller’s Gap. He shoved it up Cassidy’s shirt and gave her the address and time. She was too afraid to not go through with it.”

“Holy shit. Is it drugs?”

Sarah sniffled. “I don’t know. We’re too afraid to open the packages.”

“Damn. You can’t do this anymore. If it’s drugs and you’re caught, you’ll end up in prison too. How old is your sister?”

“Sixteen.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.” Sarah paused and choked back a sob. “I don’t know what to do, Ever. If we don’t drop the package at the designated place and time, he says he’ll call the cops and give the anonymous tip about our father’s case. The police stand by the Sons, but if they see we’ve broken a law like this, they’ll put us behind bars. And it would mean the death penalty for our father, Ever.” Tears spilled over her beautiful eyes and tumbled down her flawless cheeks.

“Aw, honey.” Ever took her in her arms and kissed away her tears. “What can I do to help you and Cassidy? Say the word and I’ll do it.”

“That’s what we were hoping, because he asked about you.”

Icy dread splashed through Ever’s veins. She pulled back to look at Sarah. “What?” she whispered.

“Blacky. Last time he gave me the package, he asked if I’d heard of a woman named Ever.”

She swiped her hands over her face, trying to wipe away the expression of terror she knew was there. Her meetings with Barbosa and Crash hadn’t gone unreported. The Raiders’ radar was up.

She had to get in there and find the information on her mother’s death, and fast. If she struck now, they might think she was being shy about returning to their fold. But after a while, they’d get suspicious and think her a narc.

There was the not-so-small matter of her betrayal too.

And Stone’s parole.

Yeah, she was waist-deep. She had to act fast.

“Did he ask anything else about me?”

“No, just if I’d heard of a woman named Ever. It has to be you, right? I’ve never known someone with that name.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you tell anyone else about this?”

Sarah’s eyes widened at her vehement tone. “Only Cassidy knows.”

Ever placed her hands on Sarah’s upper arms and stared into her eyes, trying to get the importance across. “Good. Keep it that way. I’ll handle it.”

“There’s something else.”

Oh fuck.

“What is it?”

Sarah broke down in earnest. Snorting sobs broke from her, and it tore at Ever’s heartstrings. She wrapped her friend and lover close and rocked her.

“This Blacky…he’s threatening someone else who’s important to me.”

“Who?”

“O’Dovey.”

An image of the tall, blond god in biker gear rose in Ever’s mind. “Are you and O’Dovey a thing?”

“No, but he sleeps with me sometimes. Well, he chooses me most of the time. I don’t want him to know I like him, because he’s not that kind of guy. He doesn’t want an old lady or to be tied down in any way.”

Ever smoothed Sarah’s hair. “I understand. So how does Blacky know your tie to O’Dovey?”

“Because O’Dovey followed me, and Blacky saw. He said if Cassidy and I don’t go through with this exchange thing, that he’ll take out my ‘boyfriend.’ Ever, this can’t happen! I’d never forgive myself.”

Goddamn these grown men who were fucking with the lives of young women. Using them in ways women should never be used.

Ever squeezed Sarah and then released her. In a hard tone, she said, “Leave it to me.”

Sarah looked at her, eyes red and swollen from crying. “What are you going to do?”

She returned to her cake bowl. “I’ll take care of it. When is your next exchange?”

“Two days.”

That gave Ever two days to get into the Raiders club, find info on her mother, and somehow put a stop to the Raiders dealings with Sarah and her sister.

It also meant finding the courage to go back.

She steeled herself and dumped in the rest of the ingredients, working out her frustrations on stirring the batter. When she worked most of the flour in, she fired up the mixer. The noise prohibited more conversation, so Sarah brushed a kiss on Ever’s shoulder and left.

Ever tossed a look back and found Blake blocking the doorway.

Her face burned. After that kiss she’d laid on him, what did he think of her? Did he believe it was an invitation for more?

She switched off the electric mixer. “I’m just making Jamison’s cake.”

“I see that.”

“He sent you to guard me, didn’t he?”

Blake crossed the room, heavy work boots thumping the old tile. “I thought you might need some help.”

A laugh bubbled in her. “I need help, all right, but not with the cake.”

He ducked his head to see her eyes. “I’m a good listener.”

“You can’t listen to this.”

He hitched himself onto the counter, legs dangling. He really was a gorgeous man in all the ways she’d grown to appreciate. To hell with suits and ties—give her a man in black leather any day.

His brown hair tumbled into one eye, and he brushed it away with a big hand glinting with chunky gold rings. His big beard made him look like a bear—a teddy bear. “I understand you don’t want to share your history. I have a lot to hide too.”

She quirked a brow at him and used the spatula to remove the excess batter from the beaters. When she didn’t speak, he continued.

“I covered for a friend and went to jail for a year. Most of the guys don’t know I took the fall for him.”

“Jamison?”

“He knows.” His features seemed to shiver and then calm. “Before I got out, my friend was killed. The Sons told me it wasn’t related to him being in the MC—said it was an accident.”

Ever sighed. Too many lives lost in this rough world. “What happened?”

“Said it was a bike accident. Slid out on some gravel and bit it. No helmet, cracked skull.” His tone was too nonchalant for Ever to buy that he wasn’t still hurting over it.

She reached out and touched his knee. “I’m sorry.”

He bobbed his head. She greased the cake pan and dumped the batter in. Then she smoothed the top with the spatula.

“You’re done,” Blake said.

“No, there’s another step.” She opened a bag of peanut butter cups and started dotting the cake with them so each slice would find a bite of peanut butter cup. Blake watched her for a minute and then burst out laughing. The booming sound echoed through the kitchen.

She looked up. “What is it?”

He held her gaze as he jumped off the counter and took a step to the island where she was working. He dug a finger into the cake and popped out a cup.

“Hey, you didn’t wash your hands!”

“A little germ won’t matter, but this might.” He peeled away the outer brown paper on the peanut butter cup.

Her jaw dropped. She’d just place a dozen cups, all still with the papers on.

They burst out laughing. For some reason, it grew funnier, and she folded around her giggles. Blake added some wheeze-laughing, and they leaned on each other, holding each other up.

By the time Blake helped her remove the cups and discard the papers, she’d found a good friend and alliance in him. Which was good, because she might need to rely on someone once she infiltrated the Raiders club.

Jamison swung by Villa Navarra. Ever’s car wasn’t parked out front, but he unlocked the house and went inside to look anyway. The small home was exactly as they’d left it, right down to the rumpled bed.

He lifted the edge of the sheet and smelled it, inhaling her feminine scent mixed with his. Satisfaction would have filled him, except he was still worried as hell. Where was she?

He locked the house and left, headed toward The Gearhead. He had some “change” for Burns, then head over to the Tomfoolery and make sure his guys had gotten the shipment.

He also had something to discuss with his bar managers—namely, a new operation. For a while he and Strother had tossed around the idea of making quick cash with an underground gambling operation, and he was going to get the managers’ thoughts. They were as trustworthy as they came, but since they’d be in charge of the illegal ring, it was better to get their input.

Less of a chance of someone getting rattled and blowing their cover.

Strother was getting on Jamison’s nerves, though. The man seemed more self-absorbed after his hiatus than he’d been before. And there was a new gleam in his eyes—it put Jamison on edge. What had happened to the man they all looked up to? Most people made positive changes after losing someone close to them. It seemed Strother was sinking into a darker pit.

The streets of Heller’s Gap were quiet at this time of day. Rush hour wasn’t for another hour. Only a few kids played in the park or tossed a baseball in the streets.

Jamison’s mind weighed heavy. Strother wanted vengeance on the man who sold his son the speedball that ended his life. And they still had Middleton to take care of. It might be the same man, and benefitted them if so.

Also, Ever’s revelation she’d known that Raider didn’t set easy. The knowledge was a hot stone in his gut. If someone fanned it, it would glow to life, scorching and spreading fire through his system.

How was it fucking possible to be in love with someone he didn’t trust?

She’d changed toward him, become tender-eyed and giving. Some of that toughness he’d broken through the first night at The Gearhead was gone, and he was glad of it. He liked a girl with a layer of toughness, but not with him. He wanted her soft and sweet and ready for him.

When he offed Middleton, he wanted to lay his head on Ever’s breasts and feel her fingers in his hair. He wanted her to call him Jamie.

He rode into the parking lot of The Gearhead and cut the engine. Inside only a few guys were playing pool. Burns was behind the bar, and gave Jamison a half-smile.

“Got some change coming our way, boss?”

“Yeah.” Jamison took a stool, and Burns put a beer in his hand. “The truck will be here first thing in the morning. You got the green?”

Burns slid a white envelope across the bar. Jamison palmed it and slid it into his cut. Then he sipped. The cold brew hit the spot.

“How are things at the MC?” Burns asked, taking up his own beer.

“Good. Strother is back.”

“I heard that. Tell him he’s welcome on one of my stools anytime. Been a while since we shot the shit.”

Jamison nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“And that little redheaded doll you took out of here? I hope you have her holed up somewhere, because we haven’t seen her since.”

Annoyance rippled over Jamison, and he swallowed half his beer before he could speak civilly. “She’s safe.”

Burns’ face twisted as he smiled wider. “Good news. What other word you have for me?”

Jamison eyed him. “What makes you think I have something to tell you?”

“Because you aren’t sitting here because you love beer.”

With a chuckle, Jamison set down his bottle. “You’re right.” He leaned over the bar, drawing Burns close so they could talk quietly. “We’ve been thinking about expanding our business here at The Gearhead.”

Burns’ expression was impassive. “What are you thinking?”

“A little poker, a little craps.”

Burns raised a half-charred eyebrow. “Gambling?”

“Think of it as supplying a need in the marketplace. Half the guys who come here are out in the back alley placing bets anyway. Why not bring it indoors?”

“You’re thinking the backroom?”

“Yeah. Think you could set it up? Run it smooth and keep it quiet? Because to the authorities we’re just a bar, man. We have paperwork for our sales and a proper liquor license. So whatever takes place in the backroom can’t leak out.”

Burns nodded. “I can keep it monitored. If I don’t trust someone, I don’t let them in. What kind of profits are we talking?”

“Ten percent for the bar, ten for you, and the rest goes to the club.”

Burns’ expression gave nothing away. “Fifteen for me.”

Jamison leaned away from the bar and studied the man. He was loyal and deserved compensation. He slapped the bar top. “Done. I’ll get you some supplies—tables and chairs.”

“Thanks, boss. Are you going to the Tomfoolery with this too?”

Jamison got off the stool and started walking toward the exit. “Yeah, I’m headed there now.”

“It’s a good idea to keep it spread out. Keep the cops off our asses.”

Jamison waved in agreement and good-bye. The Tomfoolery had similar views as Burns about the bar, but Jamison got Fat Franny to agree to ten percent.

As Jamison navigated the streets to the club, he hoped like hell Ever had shown up there. He also hoped Ace had more info on the connection between her and that Raider.

The familiar snake of worry slithered through Jamison’s stomach. He parked his bike and burst into the club. The main room was pretty empty—Strother and his old lady were having baskets of burgers and fries at one of the tables, and Franklin was lying on the sofa, arm slung over his eyes.

“How’d that go?” Strother asked.

“Just as planned. Has anyone seen Ever?”

Tommy entered, slipping on his cut. “I’m taking the guys and we’re riding for the change.”

“Okay. You seen Ever?” Jamison asked.

“No, man.”

Jamison searched the clubhouse, hoping to find her in his room. He was in the mood for a romp, his cock aching since the moment he’d smelled her sheets. But she wasn’t here.

He went into the garage. Some of the guys were working on their bikes, and O’Dovey was rebuilding an engine. Led Zeppelin was playing through the speaker system, evidence that Rocket was in the room.

“Any of you seen Ever?”

A chorus of no sounded.

Where could she be? She wasn’t the type of girl to go to the mall and blow money on clothes and shoes. And if she wasn’t here or at home, it meant trouble.

“Shit. Where’s Ace? Blake?”

“No clue, boss.”

“Shhhit.” Jamison smacked a box of parts, sending it sailing to the floor. Everyone stared at him, and he felt like tearing into them all. He’d come out with fists bleeding and maybe be light a tooth or two, but he couldn’t control his temper when it came to Ever.

“I’ll fucking find them myself.”