More Than Miles (A Lost Kings MC Novel) (25 page)

I feel like I missed something. “So, what does this have to do with me?”

Brother has nerve, because Sparky rolls his eyes. “I need you to transport the clones.”

“You can’t just mail some seeds back and forth?” Bricks asks.

Sparky slants a look in Brick’s direction. “No. Seeds won’t cut it. No. No mail. Federal. Easy peasy.”

I look to Rock to interpret that answer and he shrugs. Across the table, Wrath’s leaning back in his chair with his hand on his chin, fingers covering the laughter on his lips.

“So, here’s where I’ll explain the risks involved, since Sparky seems to be forgetting that part,” Rock says. Sparky waves his hands in the air and grumbles about the Feds. “How many plants?” Rock asks.

“Twelve.” Sparky points at Dex, then me. “Six each.”

Rock nods. “Okay, so one to forty-nine plants, the penalty is the same. Five years and up to a million dollar fine.”

Ouch.

I’ve gone on plenty of drops where the amounts could land me in prison a lot longer than five years, but those are low risk since they’re local and quick. This is a cross-country trip through areas where we have no influence.

Still, I think the risk is pretty low.

“Does the club need these plants, Sparky?” I ask.

He sits up and nods, taking the questions seriously. “It’ll help us meet the higher GSC demand and give us a new strain to offer that can’t be found anywhere else in the northeast.”

“We already have the best stuff in the northeast,” Wrath says dryly. “This shit make that big a difference?”

I think Sparky’s feelings are hurt by the question. “Yes,” he answers. “This is a high-producing plant, so we might be able to get ahead and reopen our western NY deal, too.”

Yeah, backing out of that deal made us look like amateurish assholes. But Loco’s Green Street Crew has us by the throat, demanding everything we produce. If we can get some breathing room that would be good for the whole club.

“I’m in.”

“Me, too,” Dex says.

“You do realize it’s almost winter, right?” Z asks.

Dex blows off the weather concern. “Fuck, it’s still like sixty-five degrees.”

Now, this is
my
area of expertise. “Weather’s clear for the next week. That gets us to Arizona. If there’s some freak storm, we can always rent a truck and trailer the bikes back.”

“Three days,” Sparky says.

“What?”

“Three days. The clones can
not
be on the road longer than that.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s a day and a half ride at least. And that’s without any stops, you prick.”

“Oh no, you need to stop to check the plants, water them, breathe on them…” Sparky keeps listing tasks, while Dex and I roll our eyes.

“You can
stay
down there long as you want. But the drive back? Three days.”

“Sparky, be reasonable,” Rock says.

“Maybe four if you promise to talk to them.”

“I’ll sing them a motherfuckin’ ballad if it makes you happy, brother,” I tell him.

Everyone cracks up. Even Sparky.

We wrap up our meeting and after everyone leaves, Rock motions for Dex and me to stay.

“You sure you’re all right with this?” he asks me.

“I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”

A slow smirk turns the corner of his mouth up. He sits back and regards both of us carefully.

“Dex, you good?”

“I’m in, prez.”

Once we’re cleared by Rock to leave, we head to the basement where we are treated to a lengthy botany lesson. “Sparky, I’m never gonna remember all this. Can’t you write it down?”

He throws a glare at me. “Nothing in writing. I’ll Skype with him.”

“
That’s
safer?”

Another fuck-off stare.

“Whatever. Just show us what you need us to do.”

After what feels like a hundred hours later, Sparky finally releases us.

“Morning?” Dex asks as we head upstairs.

“Yeah.”

“Looking forward to a change of scenery?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“A
re you sure I look okay?” I ask for the third time.

Axel runs his gaze over my green sweater, jeans, and boots. “Do you have a dress?

Although I’ve outgrown my
tomboy-who-refuses-to-wear-dresses
phase, the question still annoys me. I’m not a fan of being told what to wear.

“No. It’s cold out.”

“You look fine. Come on, my mother will be more annoyed if we’re late.”

Goody. Can’t wait.

I met Axel’s parents once. When he graduated from high school. They weren’t impressed with me then, and I don’t think they’re thrilled we’re still together. Definitely not happy about us living together.

Wait until we tell them we’re getting married.

I spent a couple afternoons studying at Axel’s house before we officially started dating. While the old Victorian I lived in with my grandmother was probably as big, it had more character—stuff that needed fixing. Axel’s parents live in one of those generic, expensive, perfect McMansion types of houses. He walks us up the sidewalk, with a hand on my back, as if he’s worried I might try to run away if he lets go.

Maybe I would.

“Hi, honey,” Mrs. Ryan fusses, kissing Axel’s cheek like she hasn’t seen him in a million years. She turns her chilly gaze my way and nods. “Heidi.”

What, no kiss for me, Lorraine?

I’ve never been a picky eater—couldn’t afford to be if I wanted to survive. My brother hunts, so I’m not squeamish. I’ve eaten lots of Bambis and Thumpers over the years. But the bloody red roast his mother serves turns my stomach.

“I can’t eat that,” I whisper in Axel’s ear. Never mind how unappetizing it looks. It can’t be good for the baby.

A wave of unpleasantness rolls through my belly. Nope. Definitely not eating that.

“Heidi?” Mr. Ryan points to the roast.

“Uh, can I have my piece cooked a little longer?”

His mother’s face twists into a scowl, as if I spit on the table instead of wanting to avoid a case of E. coli. She huffs as she reaches over and snatches my plate away. “I can do it, Mrs. Ryan. Don’t go to any trouble,” I say, following her into the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” she says without looking at me.

My stomach lurches again and I hurry to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up in private.

When I return, everyone’s waiting for me. I suppose it will be obvious that I’m knocked up now, but no one says anything.

The beef still doesn’t look good, but I pick at it, cut it into tiny pieces and push it around my plate.

His mother’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Why is she wearing my mother’s ring?”

Axel takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Well, that’s what we came here to tell you. We’re getting married in January.”

She pins Axel with a flinty glare. “You gave her my mother’s ring?”

Interesting she has no comment on the wedding.

“Yeah,” Axel snaps. “Gram gave it to me to give to my future wife.” He points at me. “Heidi.”

“Congratulations,” his father finally says.

“Thank you.”

No one asks why we’re getting married. Or where. His mother doesn’t ask about my plans.

After dinner, I try to be a good guest and help her clear the table. In the kitchen, she whirls around and glares at me. “How did you talk my son into marrying you?”

Stunned from the accusation, I can’t come up with anything more intelligent than, “What?”

“For reasons I can’t comprehend, my son is obsessed with you.”

“He loves me. I love him,” I answer weakly.

She shakes her head as if that can’t possibly be true. “You’ve done nothing but drag him down since he met you, but this is beyond comprehension.”

“Axel wants… He proposed to me.”

“Only because you convinced him. He’d never marry you if you hadn’t talked him into it.”

Her words strike hard. Will Axel end up hating me? Hating our baby?

“You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said, have you?” she screams at me.

“Mom!” Axel shouts, storming into the kitchen. “Enough.” He slips an arm around my shoulders and I lean into him for support. “We’re getting married whether you like it or not. We want you and Dad to be there—”

“Like hell,” she snaps.

“That’s too bad. I guess you’ll see pictures of the wedding.”

She turns her ice-cold glare on me. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

My stomach drops.

“Why can’t you get rid of it? Why do you have to ruin my son’s life?” she yells.

Axel’s arm tightens around me. “That’s it. We’re leaving. If that’s your attitude, we don’t want you around our child.”

I’m so relieved when we’re finally in the car driving away, I burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” Axel says quietly, placing his hand on my leg.

“Am I ruining your life?” I ask.

He takes a long time to answer, and I’m not exactly reassured when he finally does.

“No. It’s just going in a different direction than I planned.”

D
ex doesn’t question me when I explain the two-hour detour I want to take into Arkansas to steer clear of the Kansas border.

“This is your show, brother.”

I’m pinging with the need to get on the road, but Wrath insists we have breakfast before leaving.

“This is all getting a little too happy family,” I grumble as Wrath’s big hand settles on my neck and steers me toward the dining room.

“Bullshit. You love it.”

After breakfast, Sparky oversees the loading of the clones into our hard bags. I hate the look of the stretched bags, but they fit our needs. I designed a tray to fit over the plants. It won’t stand up to a serious search, but it provides some cover.

Sparky, naturally objects.

“Sweet pannies, Murphy,” Z jokes, bumping my arm.

“Trying to blend in as much as possible.”

“Christ, you’re gonna make us look like a bunch of pussies when you roll into Romeo’s compound with those dressers.”

I punch him back. “You want to join us? Butch us up a little, ya prick.”

He glances at the house. Then back at us. “Fuck it. Yeah. I’ll ride ahead, like the lone outlaw while you two look like a couple of RUBs touring the countryside.”

“Fuck you.” I’m laughing as I insult my brother, so he’s not put off one bit.