The Handler (Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club #2) (13 page)

Lincoln leaned her shoulder against the window and stared down at the street below. I talked to Huck and denied everything for a while longer. Then I asked her to tell our grandparents that I was fine before we said goodbye. Lincoln’s iPad was on the bed, so I picked it up and scrolled through the images on a gossip site. There were dozens of photos of us in Paris—hugging to stay warm on the boat; laughing at the café; holding hands walking down the street; dancing at the restaurant; kissing on top of the Eiffel Tower.

I frowned and scrolled through the gallery again to study the pictures more carefully. “Did you notice someone taking these?” I asked her.

“No, but they have super telephoto lenses. They can be like a mile away and get shots as if they were sitting right next to you. I’m so sorry. I’ll call Liv and explain that it isn’t what it looks like.”

I stared at the photos for a long time, and a strange fluttering flared up in my chest when I realized that maybe it was what it looked like.

Hal knocked and came into the room. “All right, you’ve been released. There’s a car downstairs that will take you to a hotel room for tonight. They’ve got a custom bus on its way from Italy. We’ll be back on schedule by tomorrow night. Sara went out and bought you guys new clothes that are at the hotel. The passport office is issuing new passports, and I thought you might want this back.” He handed Lincoln her unicorn necklace.

A small whimper caught in her throat when he placed it in the palm of her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He hugged her and kissed her forehead.

I got out of bed and limped to the closet. It was empty. Hal held up a bag. “Here. Sara sent these over for you.”

He handed me the clothes and left. Lincoln didn’t move. I dumped out the jeans, sweater, leather jacket, and boots onto the bed.

“I can call Liv and fix things for you,” she said quietly.

I glanced at her, feeling torn about coming out and telling her the truth. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll tell her I paid you to pose for the pictures as a publicity stunt.”

I blinked for a long second to erase the pictures from my memory and remind myself that I had a job to do. “Can I borrow that hat you’re wearing?”

“No. I’m your handler. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes. Don’t be late.” She pointed at me with mock seriousness before she left.

The images in the magazine pictures weren’t erased—they flashed through my mind like a slide show. In the shot from the boat ride, Lincoln was gazing up at Notre Dame. I was gazing at how her bottom lip curved when she smiled. When we were in line at the Louvre, the photo caught her arms mid-gesture as she told me a story, and my expression was locked in a grin that made it clear I thought she was infinitely more interesting than anything in any museum or art gallery. In all the shots, my hand was either resting on the small of her back or holding her hand.

And the kiss. If I hadn’t seen the picture, I probably would have kept telling myself that it was just me being nice so she would have her first kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower. Based on how it looked, it was undeniably more than that. The way I leaned in; the way my fingers clutched her hair; the way our lips melded together. It was way more. Obviously, I’d forgotten somewhere along the line that it was supposed to be just a job. And it scared the shit out of me when I realized that getting fired was not the only collateral damage I was going to suffer after everything blew up in my face.

Chapter Thirteen

The hospital lobby was a circus with cameras and reporters. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a hat or sunglasses, so I just ducked my head and bee-lined it for the SUV. Once I was in the vehicle, I stole the hat off Lincoln’s head and pulled it down over my eyes. Hal talked on his phone. Lincoln tried to engage me in conversation, but she eventually gave up when all I was giving her were grumpy one-word responses. We drove in silence through the streets. I didn’t even know what city we were in.

The driver dropped us off at a rear entrance of the hotel. A manager escorted us up in a service elevator. He led us down a hall and opened the double doors to the massive suite. I walked across the living room and opened the door to check out one of the bedrooms. It was the size of an apartment, and there was an entire wardrobe of jeans, T-shirts, leather jackets, and boots lined up on the bed. It was more clothes than I’d probably owned in my entire life. “Will this be satisfactory, Sir?” the manager asked me.

“Yeah, thanks.”

After he left, I checked Lincoln’s expression. I couldn’t unsee what I had seen in the pictures. It was obvious that my feelings for her were stronger than I’d thought, and I had no idea how to fix that. I could quit. I could act like a dick until she decided she wanted nothing to do with me. Or I could let our feelings develop into something potentially serious. Every option had shitty consequences—walk away without the money and never see her again, make her hate me, or enter into a relationship that would ultimately end when the tour was over and probably crush both of us. All three scenarios required hurting her, which was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.

She reached over to hold both my hands as we stood face-to-face. I knew what I wanted to do, but I didn’t know which one was the best choice. I needed time to think. I blinked to break the eye contact and stepped into the bedroom, locking the door behind me. I stacked up all the clothes and packed them into the leather duffle bag, then I flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” Lincoln asked through the door.

“I need to be alone for a while.”

She left without saying anything, and the TV turned on in the main room. At ten o’clock, she turned it off and went to bed. I couldn’t sleep.

The next morning, she knocked on my door. “Cain, can I get you anything?” I didn’t answer, so she knocked again. “At least say something so I know you’re alive.” I rolled out of bed and crossed the room to open the door. Her face creased with concern. “Do you want to talk?”

I frowned and shook my head because I did want to talk, but I knew it would only make my decision more difficult.

“I’m sorry that I messed things up with you and Liv.”

“You didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

I shook my head, touched by her sweetness and concern. Option two, being a dick to her, was out of the question. There was no way I could treat her badly. The only options left were quit and leave, or stay and make a mess of everything.

I really wanted to stay.

She searched my face and sounded cautious when she finally said, “We’re supposed to head out in about half an hour. Are you coming with us or should I arrange for you to fly home?”

My heart sped up, and my hand clamped the doorknob as I resisted the urge to push her against the wall and kiss her. As she waited for my answer, her eyelids closed in a slow blink and her eyelashes swooped like a butterfly touching down on her cheek. If a photographer had a telephoto lens aimed through the window, the entire world would have seen in my expression the moment when I realized it was going to be impossible to see her the way I did before, or treat her safety as only a job. I ran my hand through my hair and choked out, “I don’t know.”

She frowned, and her lips pressed together as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Eventually she said, “There’s breakfast in the other room,” and she walked away.

I showered, taped new gauze over the burn on my leg, and dressed before joining her in the living room. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do. Her expression fluctuated as if she wasn’t sure how to react. “I ordered you French toast,” she said. “And an omelette, and Cheerios because I wasn’t sure which you would feel like.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She poured milk into the cereal bowl. “At least have a couple Cheerios. They might help cheer you up.” She tilted her head and smiled in a silly way to try to make me laugh.

I sat across from her at the table and drank half a pitcher of orange juice.

Once she finished her pancakes, she slid an envelope and my passport across the table. “The bus leaves in ten minutes if you’re staying. There is a flight at noon if you’re leaving.”

“Where’s the show tonight?”

“Brussels.” Lincoln slowly ate as she watched me. “I want you to stay, but I understand if you want to go home and fix things with Liv.”

I opened the envelope. Inside was a check made out in my name.

“I want to pay you the full amount for the forty-three days. That way, if you stay, I’ll know that you did it because you wanted to and not just because you need the money.”

One of her assistants knocked and then came in to collect her bags. Lincoln stood and typed on her phone as she waited.

After the assistant left, Lincoln focused her attention on me. “They want me to sign autographs downstairs for a while. I should go,” she said quietly.

I nodded, then stared at the table, holding back emotion. She crossed the room and kissed my cheek. Before she could turn to leave, I clasped her wrist and handed her the envelope. “I’m staying because I want to.”

It seemed like there were a million things she wanted to say, but she settled on, “Okay. I’ll see you downstairs.”

After she left, I got up to pack my bag.

A mob of people crowded into the lobby of the hotel. Stan and Aaron were stationed at the door to prevent more people from coming in. Lincoln was with Tim in the middle of the mob signing autographs for young girls who screamed like there had been a murder in the crowd. She looked up, and our eyes met. She smiled before she signed a few T-shirts and posed with fans for pictures. She moved toward the front door one step at a time. At the back exit, two scruffy guys stood against the wall watching Lincoln being swarmed. They had on leather cuts over jean jackets. My chest clenched and the muscles along my spine tightened. Tim was distracted with people who were pushing, and Lincoln was fifty feet from me. I wouldn’t be able to get to her before they did. A different guy who was also wearing a cut appeared on the other side of the lobby. He was familiar—dark hair and a scar down his cheek. Dread caused my mouth to go dry and my heart to pound. He was definitely the Boomslangs piece of shit who torched my parents.

He stared me down with a strange expression. My throat seized, and my hands trembled with adrenaline. I was about to run for Lincoln, when the two guys left out a side door. Fireball didn’t move. I positioned myself between him and Lincoln, trying to anticipate what he was going to do.

The crowd pushed, and Lincoln got bumped around. Tim was five feet from her, but she screamed, “Cain!” and flailed her arms to escape from the girls who were tugging her clothes. She screamed again and tried to run, which sent the crowd into an excited frenzy and cut her off from Tim as they chased her. She stumbled, and I lost sight of her. I dropped my duffle bag and shoved people out of the way until I found her huddled in a crouched position crying and hyperventilating. When I checked again, Fireball was gone. I scooped her up and carried her out the front door.

Aaron and Stan rushed over and made a path that allowed us to get to the new bus. I climbed the steps and set Lincoln on the couch. She wheezed for air in a scary way. Hal rifled through her purse until he found her asthma inhaler. He tossed it to me, and I squeezed a puff into her mouth. She inhaled and signaled that she wanted me to do it again. It took almost a minute before her breathing returned to normal.

“Are you okay, Linny?” Hal asked.

She nodded unconvincingly.

“Someone get Dr. Benton,” Hal yelled at the assistants who had entered the bus and were all standing near the stairs with stunned expressions. Two of them turned and bolted out the door.

“No, I don’t need the doctor. I’m fine. I just couldn’t get any air, and I panicked. I’m fine now.” She glanced at me. “Thanks, Cain.”

I cupped my hands on the window to scan the parking lot. A black SUV peeled out at the far end. Lincoln’s asthma inhaler was still clutched in my hand, so I sucked in a shot to see if it would help my ability to breathe. “Can you get my bag, please?” I asked one of the other assistants. “I dropped it in the lobby.”

The assistant took off, and Dr. Benton showed up. He sent Stan to get an oxygen tank, then measured her blood pressure.

Hal’s veins bulged out of his temples as he yelled at Tim, “How the hell did that many people get in the hotel, and where the hell is the extra security I ordered?” The atmosphere in the bus became silent, and everyone looked at them. Hal glanced back at us and then he, Tim, and Aaron left the bus to continue the conversation outside.

“Why do we need extra security?” Lincoln asked me.

I shrugged as if I didn’t know, but given the Boomslangs sighting, I had a feeling I did know. The assistant came back with my bag. Lincoln’s gaze didn’t shift off me.

She smiled and signaled me to give her another puff from the inhaler. I held it to her lips. My other hand rested on the side of her face. She leaned into it and placed her hand on top of mine to hold it there. Her chest relaxed, and a deep breath filled her lungs. I ran my thumb over the smoothness of her cheek, which made her eyes water as if she was going to cry.

She squeezed my hand before she let it go. “You should go find out what Hal’s freaking about.”

I kissed her forehead and went outside to find Hal and Tim.

Chapter Fourteen

Hal paced around in front of the bus, shouting at someone on the phone. When he saw me, he lowered his voice, said one more thing, and hung up.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He frowned as if he was debating whether to tell me. He looked over his shoulder at the bus, then pulled me by the elbow and led me around the side of the hotel. “I don’t want you to mention anything to Lincoln, but it looks like the bus accident wasn’t an accident.”

“What do you mean?”

He shoulder checked again to make sure nobody was listening. “The investigators found some sort of explosive device stuck under the wheel well. It was remotely detonated. They’re trying to figure out who did it.”

“Shit.” As soon as he said it was a car bomb, the realization of what happened hit me like a two-by-four across my shoulders. I didn’t need a police investigation to know who did it. Improvised explosive devices and car bombs were the Boomslangs’ calling card. I paced and ran my hands through my hair as I attempted to calm down. It didn’t help. I was furious.

Hal’s veins bulged, and his breathing was labored. “The police are screening the buses and equipment, and I called in extra security. Don’t say anything to Lincoln. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Fuck that. You have to tell her there was a bomb on the bus. She’s going to want to cancel the tour.”

He rubbed his bald head as he paced around. “If there are wack jobs out to get her, canceling the tour won’t stop them. I’ll have to put extra security on her twenty-four hours a day whether she’s on tour or at home.”

“Regardless of where she is, she needs to at least know there’s been a threat so she doesn’t ditch security and go off to do something by herself.”

“She’s never gone anywhere by herself. If she wants to do something, you’ll have to go with her and take security along.”

“No. I’m not going to lie. You can’t keep something like that from her. You need to tell her what the police have found, and let her decide for herself what she wants to do.”

He loosened his tie and rubbed the sweat off his forehead with his suit sleeve. I watched the police officers and security patrol the barricaded area where the buses were parked.

“Make sure Tim gets the video surveillance from the hotel lobby. I saw three suspicious men right before she was mobbed. We need still shots of what they look like.”

He nodded and waved for Tim to come over.

Digger needed to know. He wouldn’t care too much about Lincoln being in danger, but an actual attempt against the son of one of his best friends was potentially serious enough to spark a war between the Noir et Bleu and the Boomslangs.

“I need to make a call.” I pulled out my phone.

“You can’t tell anybody about this,” Hal said as Tim arrived.

I nodded, ignoring him, and walked away. “Hey, Cisco. Is Digger around?”

“He can’t talk right now. Some shit’s going down. He’ll have to call you back.”

“This is important. What’s going down?”

“Club business.”

“Fireball found me in Germany and shoved a fucking firecracker up my ass. Ask Digger which club business is more important.”

“Chill for a second.” He put me on hold.

I paced back and forth along the barricades. Tim talked to two men in trench coats. One of them wrote in a small notebook. The other one made a call on his phone. Lincoln hung her head out the door of the bus. When she spotted me, she hopped down from the last step and bounced toward me. Three guys who were dressed in all black and wearing bullet proof vests appeared out of inconspicuous hiding spots and flanked her. She noticed she was being followed, and her head spun to look at each of them. She ran the last couple steps, then stood at my side clutching my arm. “What’s going on, Cain?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Go back to the bus. I’ll meet you there.”

She must not have liked the expression on my face, because lines creased her forehead and her lips pressed tightly together.

“Please go back to the bus and stay off your social media accounts. I’ll explain everything in a few minutes.”

Her eyes scanned the army of police officers. Some kept the crowd back, some patrolled with German Shepherds on leashes, and some passed mirrors on poles under each of the buses. “Has there been a threat or something?” she asked.

“I need to finish this call. I’ll explain later. I promise.”

She stared right in my eyes, probably to see if I was lying. She must have trusted me, because she turned and rushed back toward the bus.

“This better be life or fucking death,” Digger growled.

“Fireball tracked me down.”

“No shit, dumbass, you got your prissy-assed face plastered all over the damn internet.”

“An IED blew up the tour bus Lincoln and I were on. What should I do?”

“Is this line clean?”

“I don’t know.”

Without hesitation, he said, “Split and keep a low profile.” He hung up before I had a chance to elaborate.

I hung up and called my grandpa. It was midnight back home, so I left a message, “Hey, don’t let Finn go to school or go anywhere by herself until you hear from me.” I paused and sighed, heavy with guilt. “Sorry about everything. I’m trying to handle it.”

I stood in the parking lot for a long time trying to decide what to do. Eventually, Lincoln stuck her head out the bus door again and waved me over.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

I poked her gently in the belly button to make her back up the stairs, and I boarded the bus. Two of her assistants were sitting in the living area. She told them to excuse us. After they left, I closed the door. “Okay, Hal didn’t want me to tell you because he doesn’t want you to worry.”

She nodded and her eyes filled with apprehension.

“What’s going on?”

“The bus accident wasn’t an accident.”

She sat down on the edge of the couch cushion, more like her knees had gone weak rather than an intentional movement. “What was it?”

“Someone placed an explosive device under it and detonated it remotely.”

After pausing long enough to let my words sink in, she asked with trepidation in her voice, “What does that mean? Is someone trying to kill me?”

I sat on a bar stool and faced her. “I saw the guy who burned my parents today.”

“Where?”

“He was in the hotel lobby with two other bikers. I noticed them right before you got mobbed.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Positive.” The image of his face flashed through my memory, and my hands tightened into fists in response. “He obviously tracked me down after seeing the photos of us.”

“Maybe not. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he was at the hotel.”

“No. He tracked me down.” I stood and paced in an attempt to control my impulse to hunt him down. “He was there to send me a message. I could tell by the way he looked at me.”

“He saw you?”

“Yeah, and then they all left.”

“I don’t understand.” She rubbed the tension in her temples as she processed everything. “Why would he track you down, try to kill you with a bomb, and then just leave once he found you?”

I glanced at her before I looked down at my hands. There was only one explanation I could think of.

I looked back up at her as she figured it out. Her eyebrows angled together. “He wants me, doesn’t he?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“You think he’s the one who planted the explosive under the bus.”

“Yeah. Car bombs are a Boomslangs trademark.”

She scowled as she sorted the details in her mind. “Why didn’t they take me at the hotel when they had the chance?”

I sighed and shook my head. I had no clue why. “I don’t know. Maybe because there were too many witnesses. It seemed like he wanted to make sure I saw him first. Like he was playing some sort of demented game.”

She flopped her body back and slouched against the cushions. “What should I do?”

“It’s your call.” I sat down next to her. “What do you want to do?”

She exhaled and clutched the roots of her hair. “I don’t even know what my options are. It’s not like this happens every day.”

“Well, one option is I can take off, and we can hope that they’ll leave you alone once I disappear.”

“Do you think they will leave me alone?”

“No.” I rubbed my face and came up with more options. “You can cancel the tour and go into hiding.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. Until my dad’s friends take care of business.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrugged, frustrated that it had come down to exactly what I’d worked for six months to avoid. “They’ll eliminate the threat.”

“Jesus,” she mumbled and bit at her pinkie nail. “Isn’t there some other way to handle it?”

“Like what?”

“Tell the police.”

“Trust me, I wish it could be handled legally. I’ve worked really hard to not resort to their level of justice. I want to be better than them, but I don’t even know his name and I have no proof. What are the police going to be able to do about it?”

“If he shows up again, we can negotiate with them. I’ll give them money to leave us alone.”

“No.”

She turned and sat cross-legged on the seat cushion to face me. “Why not?”

“These guys don’t negotiate. They’ll take your money and still try to kill me before I testify in the trial.”

“Or kill me just to get back at you.”

“Exactly.” The reality hit me hard. “Do you want me to take off and let Tim and the team keep an eye on you?”

She sighed and rested her head on the back of the couch. She didn’t move for a long time, and when she finally did, it was to pick up her guitar. “I don’t want to be stuck in solitary confinement somewhere for God knows how long.”

“Maybe you could stay with a friend somewhere.”

“You’re my only friend, Cain,” she said as she started to play The Police’s
Every Breath You Take
. “I want to finish the tour, and I would be more afraid if you weren’t here with me.”

“Are you sure?”

She stopped playing and rested her arm on the guitar. “What do you think is safest?”

“We have the police checking the video surveillance in the hotel lobby, but honestly, even if the police can identify them, prove they planted the bomb, and arrest them, a different Boomslangs member will take their place. It would be harder for them to get to you with all the crowds and media around. If you’re going to keep touring, I think it’s safest for you if I stay to protect you while my dad’s friends do their thing.”

She nodded and seemed overwhelmed as she started playing again.

“I’m sorry I got you involved.”

She strummed a few notes, then pressed her palm against the strings. “I bribed you to come on tour with me. Photographers who stalk me broadcasted your whereabouts to the entire world. Those pictures resulted in your girlfriend not wanting to talk to you and your dad’s murderer hunting you down. I think maybe I brought this on myself.”

I smiled, surprised at how well she was taking an attempt on her life. Although I knew the stakes were dangerous, making her worry wasn’t going to help the situation. Instead, I decided to keep things as normal as possible. “It would have been helpful if you told me there might be photographers stalking us in Paris.”

Her left eyebrow and shoulder shot up in a sassy shrug. “I would have mentioned it to you if I knew you were going to kiss me.”

“If I told you I was going to kiss you, it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

She grinned and played a few verses of a Mumford & Sons song that my mom liked. “If you warned me that you were about to make a move, I could have stopped you and saved you all this trouble.”

I shoved her shoulder playfully. “You wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She continued playing. “How long were you planning on doing it?”

I raised my eyebrows evasively, then stood and changed the subject. “I’m going to go ask Hal when we’re leaving.”

She smiled, aware of my obvious attempt to dodge the subject. “If you avoid answering the question, I’ll just assume what I want to assume.”

I chuckled, glad that she wasn’t freaking out over the security threat. “Knock yourself out. I’ll be back in a minute.” I paused at the door and looked at her over my shoulder. I considered telling her that I had been imagining what it might feel like to kiss her since the first time I saw her. Instead, I said, “Liv and I aren’t together anymore. You can stop referring to her as my girlfriend.”

Her smile faded as a result of the surprise. Then an elated expression sparkled in her eyes before I turned and left. I probably had the same expression until I stepped off the bus and was reminded of the shit storm I had caused.

I found Hal in one of the other buses. He looked like hell. He was talking on his phone, drinking hard liquor, and smoking a joint, but it obviously hadn’t relaxed him. I sat down and waited for him to finish the phone conversation. He hung up and looked at me, exhausted and stressed. “You told her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“How did she take it?”

“Better than she probably should have. She wants to continue the tour with extra security.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous to continue?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“So talk her out of it. I can cancel the rest of the shows and fly her to a secure location.”

“Then what? She can’t stay locked up in hiding forever.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Same as always—manage the tour and let the professionals handle the rest.”

“I don’t know any professionals who specialize in this type of thing.”

I stood and smiled as the plan formed in my mind. “I know a few guys who specialize in this kind of thing. I’ll handle it,” I said before I left him alone on the bus.

I dialed my phone and walked toward Tim, Aaron, and Stan who were stationed near the bus Lincoln was in. When Mug answered the phone I said, “You and Gin feel like taking a European vacation?”

He chuckled in a way that sounded more like a smoker’s hack. “Did Digger okay it?”

“Book flights to Amsterdam. I’ll take care of everything else.” I hung up and when I turned around, Tim, Aaron, and Stan all eyed me suspiciously.