X Marks the Spot (Executioners MC Book 1) (9 page)

CHAPTER TEN

(Ronin)

Names, aliases, dates. I jotted down every fucking possible name that I could think of that might give me a possible lead. I didn’t really give a shit about Numar’s killer. I just wanted the person for setting me up. Taking out Numar could have made the bastard a hero in my book until they went and fucked it up by stealing my gun and pinning the murder on me.

I peered at the list. All I ended up with was a string of puzzle pieces that I couldn’t connect. It’s not easy trying to narrow down who would want to kill a cocksucker like him.

I heard the shower water and wondered what had Jolene all worked up. For someone who was in a hurry to get back to her so-called life, she sure didn’t seem very happy.

I was trying to figure her situation out when a loud rap on the door sent me flying to my feet. I grabbed the pistol from my duffle bag.

“Who’s there?”

“Man, open the fucking door and get me a beer.”

I unlocked the bolts and swung the door open wide. “Shit, Clint. You ‘bout got a face full of lead.”

“You mess up this face and the ladies of California will hunt you down and string you up.”

We both chuckled as I opened up a couple of beers. “What brings you by, man?”

“Just checking on ya. You got a shitload of problems right now, man. It’s not looking good.”

My face twisted. “I didn’t kill Numar. Sure, if given the chance, but this wasn’t me. I’m not sloppy or stupid.”

Clint gave a slow nod before settling back into the chair. “Yeah, I know. Told Jesse this wasn’t your work. We got your back, brother.”

“Appreciate that, man. But I’m not involving the club, not until we find out who set me up, anyway. They got my gun, but that’s it. It’s only a matter of time before I find out who took it from the clubhouse. Then all hell’s gonna fucking break loose.”

“To be honest, I can’t believe that we’re sitting here talking about this right now. Jo must really be a fucking puppet master or something.” Clint guzzled the beer and crossed one leg over the other.

“Man, you should have seen her. It was fucking gold, seriously. Makes me wonder why the hell we’ve been dicking around with Sanders all these years.”

“No shit. She probably could have gotten me off for that damn assault charge a while back. Not to mention, she’s a hell of a lot better to look at,” Clint snickered.

“Hmm, not sure about all that, but thanks.”

Both of us turned to find Jolene standing in the hallway. My breath stalled in my throat. She was wearing a revealing tank top with a snug pair of running shorts. Her long, wet hair fell down her back, dampening her shirt.

“Hey, you really are babysitting!” Clint bolted form the chair and wrapped his firm arms around Jolene’s waist. “This is like old times.”

“Shit, man, put her down before she gets air sick.”

Clint planted Jolene back on the ground and plopped down in the chair, leaving the only other place to sit next to me on the small couch.

“What’s this? She asked, picking up the notebook.

“I’m trying to think of anything that might help my case.”

Clint shook his head. “This is so fucked up.”

I eyed Jolene as she scanned the paper.

“First thing we need is an alibi, and to find out everyone who had access to that gun. Also, it would be great if you could quit talking about how much you wanted him dead.”

My back snapped straight. “I’m not gonna lie. Besides, everyone knows exactly how I felt about Numar. It would make me look guilty if I tried to cover it up.”

“No one is asking you to lie. Damn, you’re so hard headed. Just quit offering the information.”

Jolene and I prepared for a heated conversation when Clint jumped in.

“Hey, do you guys remember the night we went jumping off the Jericho Bridge?”

My mouth curled into a sly grin as I glanced toward Jo, who rolled her eyes and looked away.

Clint wagged his eyebrows. “Do you still have the piercing?”

“Are you kidding? Not Jo, the uptight, professional, suit wearing Jo,” I jeered.

Jolene lifted her tank top just above her belly button, revealing a small, crystal barbell. I tried not to stare at her tight abs and slim waistline. Her skin appeared creamy and soft, begging to be kissed.

“Man, that shit was epic. Who gets a piercing and then goes jumping off the tallest bridge in three counties, right into a grungy ass lake?” Clint took a long pull off the beer, swallowing through his fit of laughter.

“Yeah, well, don’t call me chicken shit then. I lived to prove you boys wrong back then It’s like it was a different world.”

“I guess it kind of was, huh?” I stared at the wall ahead. “We’re all different people now.”

“Speak for yourself.” Clint kicked my boots off the table. “I’d go jumping off that same bridge tonight. What about that night we got pulled over down by the lake and Jo tried to hide all the open beers under her mini skirt?”

“Oh my God! How can you remember all of that?” Jo’s wide eyes gazed at Clint. “It’s a wonder we’re all still alive today to talk about this bullshit.”

“Isn’t that the fucking truth?” I choked on laughter as I took a drink of the cold beer.

“Come on now, it wasn’t all that bad.” Clint tossed his head back and gave a long sigh. “Shit man, I’d trade damn near anything to go back in time.”

I tried to get a visual on Jolene without turning my head to see her reaction to Clint’s loaded confession. My chest tightened when I saw her give a slight nod. She agreed.

The three of us spent the next couple of hours sharing stories and talking about good times.

Clint hopped up and stretched. “I’m gonna use the head.”

I waited until he was gone before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. I returned with two bottles of beer, twisting off both caps and handing one to Jo. I pulled my lips into a hard line. Being close enough to smell her shampoo made my body twitch.

Clint hustled back into the room, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Looks like you guys are gonna have to have fun catching up without me.” He clicked the button on his cell phone and shoved it back into his jeans. “I gotta go report in.”

“What’s up?” My head was spinning, wondering why I wasn’t called in.

“No idea. I’ll let you know and you two try not to get in any trouble. He leaned over and kissed Jo on the cheek.

“Later brother,” I said as the front door slammed shut.

“That was weird.”

I nodded. “Yeah, got a bad feeling ‘bout it too.”

Jolene took a long swig off the bottle and smiled. “Don’t go getting all paranoid. Want to talk about the case?”

“Nah, can’t collect my thoughts. My head’s a fucking mess. Can we dive in tomorrow?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I’ll let you get some sleep and go over files in the bedroom. You’ve got to be tired after that long night in jail.”

My shoulders sagged. “I don’t think I can sleep right now. I’m buzzing. How ‘bout some music?” I reached for my phone and clicked the playlist button. George Jones was belting out “He Stopped Loving Her Today”.

I didn’t like the uneasy feeling creeping around in my usually rock solid gut. I took down the rest of my beer in one swallow and darted off to the kitchen for another.

“Grab me one too, please,” she chimed from the couch.

Surprised to find her bottle already empty, I pried the cap off and handed her the full one. I leaned back on the couch and kicked off my boots. I watched the way Jolene tore into her beer.

“Man, you can still drink like the old days.”

Her eyes rounded and she wiped her mouth with the backside of her hand. Her cheeks flushed red. I drank my own beer while eyeing her. I fought the urge to reach out and pull her to me. A smile tugged in the corner of my lips, arching one dark eyebrow.

“Wonder what else you can still do like the old days?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

(Jolene)

The cold bubbles from the beer were a vast contrast to the searing rush of blood soaring through my body.

I was relieved to find Clint in the living room when I got out of the shower. After the phone call with Brad, I didn’t trust myself not to blow off some steam. I saw the way Ronin leered at me, his eyes full of hunger and need. It was obvious, but I told myself that door had been closed, locked, and nailed shut. He had a world of problems, and at least one redhead.

Not a battle that I wanted to fight.

Now, hanging out with both Clint and Ronin, reminiscing about old times made my heart swell. They had been two of the most important people in my life for as far back as I could remember. The three of us were inseparable. The Misfit Musketeers.

As the three of us talked, Ronin and I had become more playful, moving closer to one another on the tiny couch. It was like living in a parallel universe, not a care in the world. Just a cold beer and good company. Just like old times, when we were too dumb to worry about life.

Clint also served as a necessary cock block. Which might have worked had he not been called away. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with Ronin. The beer tasted damn good, and he was looking better than ever.

As he handed me another bottle of Bud, I couldn’t help but notice his strong forearms. He had really packed on some muscle over the years. He had also gotten some new ink.

My body hummed as I remembered our time together. When he said that he wondered what I could still do like the old days, I had to fight the urge to throw him down and blow him
and
his fucking mind.

I tried to slow down, but the beer was going down like water, smooth and mind numbing water.

Deciding to deter the obvious flirting, I changed the subject. “So, what’s been going on with you? Before all this bullshit, of course.”

His nostrils flared as he pulled in a deep breath. “Well, making pretty decent money off the custom choppers. I help Ruth down at the Clubhouse when I’m not riding or on duty. She let me buy a stake in the place about a year back.”

“That’s right, Sargent at Arms, congratulations.”

His lips curved into a lopsided grin, resembling that of a small child receiving a gold star. His devotion to his club was deeply rooted. He was a lifer by choice.

“Thanks, yeah, I moved up a couple years ago. Jesse’s been great, taking me under his wing. I’m learning a lot.”

“And what about the choppers? You think that’ll go anywhere?” I remembered how talented Ronin was when it came to bikes. He was like a steel horse god. He had been ever since the day that he offered to give me a ride to school on the back of his very first Frankenstein.

“I sure as hell hope so. Makes for a good payday.”

I turned to face him. “Not that you’re hurting for money.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes hardened.

Without thinking, I reached over and caressed his shoulder. “Hey, don’t get all defensive. I was just a surprised to see you lay down a hundred grand so easily.”

Ronin ran his hand through his beard. “What can I say? Business has been good. Ok, your turn in the hot seat. Tell me about what’s been going on down in San Diego. Looks like they’re treating you good down there.”

I took another long pull from my beer. I didn’t like to talk about myself. If I had to be honest with myself, I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t been happy in a very long time.

“Let’s see,” I started as I adjusted my position, attempting to hide my uneasiness. “After everything went down here, I started school at Berkley. Before graduation, I was offered an internship with Carrington, Shuler, and Winslow, a great firm out of San Diego. It was my dream job so I jumped at the opportunity. I’ve been fortunate enough to co-counsel some fairly high profile cases.”

“Is this what you usually do?”

I tilted my head, allowing my loose, wavy hair to cascade around my shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“When someone wants to know more about you, you give them a bullet point resume?”

Slapping his chest, I giggled. The alcohol was definitely getting to me, leaving my head fuzzy and my hands loose.

“Why do you always have to call me out like that?”

“Because you’re always trying to hide.”

I weighed his words. He was right. And, what’s the point? Why try to bury myself under a fucking rock? For what? It didn’t accomplish a damn thing in my miserable life, except for leaving me alone and withdrawn.

I gazed up at his face. His strong jaw twitched. His full, wet lips teased me as he licked the suds away.

“Ok, fair enough. After the house fire, and losing … Well, everything fell apart. I started drinking. I didn’t care about anything. Couldn’t give a shit whether I lived or died.”

Ronin lowered his head. “Yeah, I remember,” he said, followed by a heavy guzzle of beer.

“It was devastating. I would have been perfectly happy to wither away and die. Pop told me I had to make a choice. Either I could go away to school or I could go to rehab. It was an eye opener. I looked in the mirror and saw my mother, a shell of a human being. It was only a matter of time before I passed out and never woke up again, just like her.”