Starting Over (20 page)

Starting Over by Ryder Dane

was ready to open the unit when she got a creepy feeling. She looked around and saw

a large man at the corner of the line of buildings. He was talking on a cell phone and

staring at her.

Fuck
, she didn’t have her gun or even her boot knives. Everything was inside of the

storage units. The bike was in the companion room. Her guns and riding gear were

with the bike. The truck had taken up most of the large room. It had several large tubs

of person stuff in the bed, and she hoped there was enough room in the small side to

stack the plastic totes. She turned back, hurried to open the door, and stepped inside.

She stood inside the door in confusion. The room was empty. The sea green

Studebaker was gone and so were her possessions. Panic was leeching in, and she

shook as she inserted the key into the side door to access the smaller room.

Someone pounded on the door, and she knew it had to be the fat guy that she’d

seen earlier. She yelled through the door an unfriendly, “What?”

The door cracked open and an envelope was tossed inside before the door was

quickly shut. She approached the white letter sized packet, and bent down to look

closer before she picked it up. Her name was on the sealed envelope. She leaned

against the door and ran her finger under the flap. There was a single sheet of paper

inside, and she knew what happened to her truck from reading the single line.

River,

We have your truck and boxes of stuff. You know where we are.

They hadn’t signed the note, but she knew who wrote it. She wondered how they’d

found her, but that didn’t matter to her right this minute. She grinned, they hadn’t

forgotten her. She did a little dance drumming her feet on the concrete floor and turned

in a circle. War and Race were holding her truck and possessions hostage and she

began to laugh. They’d found a way to force her to decide, but the solution had already

been in her heart. Now all she had to do was decide if she wanted to go back as a

winner or a whipped puppy. The choices didn’t sit wel , so she picked up the keys she’d

dropped and opened the side door.

Ha! They’d missed her bike. The shiny red and chrome still shined for her pleasure

when she pulled the cover off it and she wasted no time lacing on her boots and gearing

up. She still had to stop back at the hotel and get her clothes, but she had a place to be

now. The knowledge kept the smile on her face. Hearing the engine of her bike made

her happy. It was going to be a long road, but in the end, the reward could outweigh the

sore butt and shoulders from the ride.

The creepy man was nowhere to be seen, and she hoped that he was gone. The

men wouldn’t be expecting her to ride up on a bike. They would expect her to be in a

cage, and knowing that they had a lot to learn about her made her smile in anticipation.

Knowing that they were in for a surprise made her feel justified in teaching them that

she wasn’t just another helpless woman, depending on men.

She rolled into town at three thirty in the afternoon four days after she received the

ransom note from the guys. She stopped by the bar, walked inside with her helmet

under her arm, and surprised Maisey who was clearing a large table in the middle of the

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Starting Over by Ryder Dane

room. She tapped the little woman on the shoulder and stood back waiting for her to

recognize her.

Maisey turned with a smile, and stood stock still for a second, until she realized that

River was the person who’d tapped her on the shoulder. She grinned and squealed an

ear piercing noise that made River’s ears ring.

“River,
Ohmygodit’sgoodtoseeyou
.” She left the buss tray on the table and hugged

her tight. “I missed you so much, you have no idea how much I wished that you were

around in the past few months. Where’ve you been hiding? Race and War gril ed me

and I didn’t know where you were. I’m so happy that you’ve come back.”

River knew the reason Maisey was staring at her was due to the fact that she now

had her natural dark blond hair instead of the short bleached do she’d worn while she

was there before. She didn’t say anything about the leather outerwear, but she had

raised an eyebrow when she looked her up and down at arm’s length.

“You look good, better than good actual y. You’ve lost weight. I’m just gaining

weight like crazy, but by the time I’ve stopped gaining I wil lose ten pounds or more, so

I don’t mind gaining the extra pounds.” She patted her bel y, and River stared at her

hand and comprehension dawned.

“You’re pregnant?” The nodded reply was enthusiastic and River had to smile.

“Oh, Maisey, that’s fantastic. Who, when? Come on spil , I want details.”

They sat at the bar, and while Maisey related the courtship that Mambo considered

sufficient, River kept grinning until Maisey mentioned War and Race. She shook her

head when Maisey asked her, “Have you been to the clubhouse yet?”

“No, I rol ed in and this is my first stop. I wondered how it worked out for you the

morning I left, but you were smiling and hanging onto each other and looking happy.

I’ve been hoping that everything worked out wel between you. I can see that it must

have.” She patted the smal tummy bump. “I love it. You’l make a great momma.”

The peaceful smile on the smaller woman’s face said it al as far as River was

concerned. She was final y happy and her life turned out better than she’d ever

dreamed it would.

River looked at the time and decided she might as well bite the bullet and go to the

clubhouse. That was the plan until Maisey told her, “Race and War got into a fight at

the strip club over in Madison two days ago. They are sitting in jail waiting for the

charges to be dropped or the prosecutor to try to cut them a deal. The dumb bastard

has no idea who he’s dealing with.” She shrugged her shoulder and grinned. “He’s

gonna find out, because I heard Mambo talking to Bam last night. They are trying to

find the books that Wolfman had with the payouts in them. He had the entire judicial

branch of the county on the payroll. When Wolfy died, the payoffs dried up. Now if they

can find the books, Mr. Prosecutor is going down the hard way. Or he’l tuck his tail

between his legs and skedaddle back to his office. From what Mambo said, they are in

a safe place, but they rechecked the bunkers and didn’t find anything. They think they

might be in a locker at the bus station or a bank safety deposit box, but no one knows

the combination or has anyway to get the information.”

River said her goodbyes and left the bar to take a room at the old No Tell Motel for

the night. At midnight she sat bolt upright in the bed and gasped. That’s it, those were

the numbers Tuck told her about. She dug through the pockets of the leather jacket that

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Starting Over by Ryder Dane

had belonged to Dallas, and found the notebook that she’d written everything Tuck had

told her to keep notes on.

She remembered him laughing and saying that, “I have the bastard by the short

hairs and the dumb fucker doesn’t know it yet. I’ve got his shit, and he ain’t getting it

back, so keep the numbers close, I might need you to retrieve some things for me in a

few months.”

She couldn’t sleep so she got up to pace for a while but ended up grabbing her bag

and helmet. Busses ran twenty-four/seven, so the station should be open for her to look

for the locker.

The place was rundown and there were two winos lying against each other on a

bench near the bathrooms. The desk clerk was snoozing in his chair, and it was

obvious the place saw little or no nighttime traffic. The first locker number that she had

didn’t match up with anything in the place, so she worked her way through the list of

numbers until she found number eighty-four. She punched in the combination of

numbers and the door cracked open so she could push it further open to see inside. A

large duffel was stuffed into the smal space, but she didn’t bother to open it right then.

The drunks were waking up and one started to yell at the other one for finishing the

bottle off without sharing.

She pulled the duffle closer to her body and shut the locker after making sure that it

was empty. On the way back to the motel, she speculated about what was in the heavy

bag.

She’d been expecting a book with numbers, but when she opened the thing and

saw the bundles of cash, she had to sit down quick or fal down in shock. Once she’d

come to terms that there was more cash in the bag than she’d ever seen in one spot

outside of television, she dumped the thing on the bed and began to count the bundles

of hundreds and twenties. There was over a hundred thousand dollars in the bag, and

a key with a small tag that she had to take over to the light from the lamp in the room to

see what was written on it. All it had was an address two towns over. She repacked

the bag, and knew that she was going to continue her search for the missing books.

She needed to sleep, and sometime just before dawn she drifted off.

It was ten in the morning when she woke up and decided what to do with the bag

ful of money. She couldn’t leave it in the motel, no one with any brains would leave

anything of value in the place. Deciding to take a chance, she rode up to the gate at the

winery, and yelled at the sleepy looking Prospect. “Make sure this gets put in Race’s

room and don’t get sticky fingered, I know how much is in it and I promise you, you don’t

want to face the man if any of its missing.”

She saw Bam heading toward the gate and pointed his way. “Give it to him, that

way you won’t get into trouble.” She revved the sporty and left as fast as she dared to

go in the curves. Her next stop was Dannefel and she still needed to eat something and

gas up before trying to find the house or building that the key belonged to. The town

was a little smaller than Braxton Hills, but she was in unfamiliar territory.

The small house was on a cul-de-sac at the end of a dead end street with five

houses scattered between the un-kept woods and wild weeds. The place looked

abandoned, and two windows had been shot out with rocks or possibly a bb gun. There

were two tax sale notices on the door, and disconnect tags from the utility companies.

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Starting Over by Ryder Dane

The weed yard appeared to be almost as high as the rest of the houses she’d passed

on the drive into the road.

She shut the sporty down and looked around before dismounting. No one was

around, in fact the only living, breathing beings were the raccoon waddling across the

driveway and the birds chirping at her for intruding on their quiet spot. She reached for

her pistol and thumbed the safety off before walking around the outside of the deserted

bungalow.

The small garage behind the house was locked up tight, and she tried the keys, but

neither one worked in the lock. She went to the backdoor and it easily opened when

she inserted the key in the deadbolt. She pushed the door open and waited for a

minute trying to listen for any movement or voices.

“Hel o, is anyone home, knock, knock.” No one answered her call. She kept the

gun in front of her body and walked through the house. It was a neat little house with

two bedrooms and a kitchen dining room crammed together, a smallish living room and

one and a half bathrooms. The place was tidy but dusty, and the furniture was limited to

a double bed in the larger bedroom with the attached half bath, a few articles of clothing

hung in the closet. If the unmade bed hadn’t looked like someone had rolled out of it

without straightening the covers, she might have walked passed the dusty thing. She

picked up the pillow. If his aftershave had scented the pillow, it had long since

dissipated. Tears were falling as she touched the black and blue colored t-shirts that

were left hanging on their plastic hangers that probably had been what the shirts hung

on. Tags still remained on the clothing, and that disturbed her.

She abandoned the room and headed for the kitchen that had a small table and two

chairs sitting by themselves in the dining area. She was afraid to look in the fridge, but

cracked it open and saw that it was empty. Even the freezer contained nothing. The

old six-pack of longnecks sat on the counter, but they weren’t the brand Tuck used to

drink at the bar. The cupboards were empty, and even the drawers held nothing but a

few small hand tools that she picked up and looked at. Under the sink was a few

cleaning products, but the place appeared to be just a house, there was nothing here to

indicate that Tuck had lived here or even visited except the clothes in the closet.

She wandered around checking in possible spots that would give her a clue for

whatever she needed to find. Obviously there was something here, or the keys would

not have been in the bag with all of that money. All she had to do was forget sentiment

and start being methodical about her search.

She was filthy and sweating by the time she found the old book, and she’d almost