“What if I talk to her? See if we can work something out,” I offered and her eyes jumped to mine, a fragile hope in them that hardened my resolve. “Can’t hurt, right?”
“Right,” Candy replied hesitantly. “That would be really nice of you.”
“Well, I guess it’s the least I can do for threatening to pop your boobies,” I said, feeling a little guilty now, and Candy giggled. I stood up, tilting my head to the right and left as I admired her work of art. “I’m going to go, but I promise to talk to Ronnie.” Candy was nodding happily as I left, leaving me determined to figure out how I was going to get Ronnie to give a club girl a chance.
***
I shrugged the backpack on my shoulders as we walked out of the club, prepared for a long ride on the back of Creed’s bike. I paused when I saw the truck idling by the back door instead. Creed shrugged when he caught my glance.
“Easier on both of us if we take the truck,” he explained, throwing a duffel bag into the bed. “Not that I don’t like having you clinging to me like a monkey, but I’d rather not push my control.”
I suppressed a smile at that thought and placed my backpack on the floorboard, careful to keep it upright. Crew came up, giving me a smile as he bumped shoulders with Creed. “Are you coming too?” I asked curiously. I thought it was just Clutch riding along but it wouldn’t surprise me if Creed had roped Crew into coming too.
He shook his head, “Negative, Jailbait. I’m working on my car today.”
“Okay, you’ll walk Maisy for me?” I clasped my hands in front of me in a pleading gesture. I’d been walking and playing with Maisy every day since we’d rescued her. I’d already gone over to see her that morning, waking up early to make sure I had enough time, but she needed her afternoon playtime.
He was already nodding. “I’ve got to feed the other two so I’ll make sure and spend a little time with Maisy too.” I’d been impressed by how far the other two dogs they’d rescued had come. Both Creed and Crew had a gift working with the dogs, helping them to trust again and heal. Creed even said they’d be able to be adopted in a few weeks.
“Thank you!” I surprised him with a hug, and hesitantly he patted my shoulder. “She really likes you,” I informed him and he ducked his head as red crept up his cheeks. “Don’t be embarrassed. I always trust a dog’s instincts.” I spun away from him as Clutch rumbled up, planting his feet on the ground as he waited for us to load up.
“Now that the party’s arrived, you ready to roll out?” Creed winked as Clutch flipped him the bird and I nodded, hopping on the seat. Crew shut my door, then shook hands with Creed. I rolled my window down as Creed came around.
“Hey, Crew,” I called and he turned back toward me. “Stay safe.” He gave me a puzzled look but nodded and I rolled the window back up.
Creed settled next to me and I turned to glance at him. “What did Johnny say about us all going to talk to this guy?”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he answered with an eye roll.
“Sounds right,” I replied, bouncing a little as Creed started to roll out of the parking lot. I saw Johnny standing in the door of the bar and waved, but he didn’t wave back, instead turning away, his expression hooded. Some of my excitement dissipated at his reaction, but it came back when Creed bumped my hand.
“Ready to get some answers?”
“More than ready,” I replied, settling back in the seat as Clutch followed behind us.
We hadn’t been driving long when Creed exited the highway. I glanced at him and he gave me a tight smile, “Pit stop.” His answer was a little too glib and I glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure Clutch was still there. I saw him cruising behind us as Creed added, “What’s a road trip without snacks?”
When we pulled into the gas station parking lot, he parked along the side of the building, out of view of the road. Clutch pulled right up in front of the door, not taking his helmet off until we went inside.
“Get a variety,” Creed said as I headed toward the racks of food.
“Beef jerky,” Clutch called after me and I waved my hand in acknowledgement. I grabbed a few things, covertly watching the guys as they whispered by the door. Something was going on, I just didn’t know what.
I made my way to the cash register and the guys met me there. “A pack of cigarettes,” Creed told the girl behind the register, showing her the pack he had so she’d know what brand, and she glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached for the pack to see if he checked out her ass. He missed her ass and the moue of disappointment she made as he looked over what I’d selected. “Good choices, Jailbait,” he praised, going for the sour gummies first just like I knew he would.
“What’s going on?”
They traded glances, Creed finally answering, “I’m going to ride Clutch’s bike while he drives the truck.”
“Why?” I eyed them suspiciously, not liking the sudden switch. I didn’t have a problem with Clutch, but it seemed strange to me that Creed would decide to ride instead of stay with me in the truck. I caught a mutinous expression on Clutch’s face, almost like he didn’t like the idea either. “Seriously, why?”
“Clutch is a little sore,” Creed replied, straight-faced. “Better he ride in the truck.” A choked sound met that lie but before I could argue the cashier leaned forward, cleavage on full display.
“Anything else I can get you boys?” My head turned at the blatant invitation in her voice.
“A receipt,” I snapped, no longer amused by the constant attention Creed seemed to receive from the fairer sex. He snorted, throwing a hundred on the counter.
“Keep the change,” he advised, scooping up the snacks and cigarettes as he hustled us from the building. “Here,” he said as he thrust the armful of stuff at Clutch, and gave him a warning glance I didn’t miss. He tugged the full head helmet on before heading to the bike as Clutch hustled me to the truck.
“Sore?” I questioned doubtfully as Clutch dumped the snacks on the seat between us, starting the truck and backing out in a hurry. He made a right instead of a left out the parking lot, Creed practically riding the bumper. “Shouldn’t we go the other way?”
“Shortcut,” Clutch answered briefly, accelerating the truck. He glanced over at me and the sight of my glare made him add, “I’m sore because I rode the new bucking bronco ride at the Crazy Horse.” I lifted my eyebrows in disbelief at that statement, before glancing out the side mirror. The sight of a black sedan caused my blood to turn to ice, drowning out Clutch’s rambling explanation.
“He’s following us,” I said hollowly.
Clutch made a few more random turns before he answered, “Temporary situation, Jailbait.”
My hand clenched around the seatbelt as I stared tensely out the side mirror. “He’s still there,” I muttered, growing worried. “He haven’t lost him.” We were getting further from civilization as Clutch drove down an empty stretch of road. Creed roared past us and when he was out of sight the black sedan suddenly seemed closer. “Where is he going? Clutch?”
He shot me an apologetic glance. “This might be our best chance to talk to him, Jailbait.”
“You’re doing this intentionally,” I breathed. “How long have you known he was following us?”
“Since we left the club,” he admitted. “We needed to get him out of Friendly.”
“So you could talk to him,” I repeated, feeling ridiculously young and dumb. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Before we ran him off the road,” he answered instantly. “Probably.”
“Before you run him off the….” My words faded as I twisted around, seeing the sedan surge forward toward the bumper. “He’s going to –” My screech cut off abruptly as Clutch sent the truck spinning around, snacks flying, as he forced the black sedan to shoot past us. Now we were behind them and Clutch took full advantage. He chased after them in the older model truck as Creed appeared in the distance, headed back our way. Grant’s sedan was now pinned between
the two vehicles and as Creed came closer I saw he was playing a deadly game of chicken.
“He won’t win,” I cried, pointing at him on the motorcycle.
“He won’t need to,” Clutch promised as he bumped the black sedan, the heavy truck holding steady. The car swerved, but the driver managed to regain control. Creed continued to head straight for us and the black sedan, driving in our lane and I braced myself. I desperately wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t, staring in horror, as we stayed locked on a collision course.
The black sedan barreled forward, far too close to Creed, and a scream ripped from my throat as they appeared to collide, the black car going airborne as I lost sight of Creed.
“He’s fine. Jailbait! He’s fine.” Clutch’s shouts finally broke through as the truck slammed to a stop. Abruptly, my screams halted as I stared sightlessly at the black sedan now wrapped around a tree. I couldn’t move, frozen in place as my mind relieved the accident that took my mom. The hard jolt, the momentary feeling of weightlessness as I heard my mom scream my name, and then the stomach churning drop as the seatbelt locked me in place.
The door yanked open and a callused hand cupped my cheek, “Jailbait, it’s alright. I’m here.” I blinked at the nickname, my head turning blindly to him. “Right here. Look at me, Jailbait.”
It took a second to focus, to escape the memory, but when it did a cry escaped me as I threw myself at him. The seatbelt caught me, trapping me in place as I fought to reach him. “Shh, shh, Jailbait,” he murmured, his hand releasing the seatbelt as he gathered me close. “I’m here. I’m so sorry.” He kept up a continuous stream of soothing nonsense as I clung to him.
“Creed,” Clutch called out, standing at the door of the sedan. “He’s dead.”
The words shattered the fear paralyzing me and I fought Creed’s hold. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, attempting to calm me.
I stopped my struggle, staring up at him. “I need to see him,” I told him fiercely, “I need to see him dead.”
“Okay,” he answered, exhaling. “Okay.”
He helped me from the truck, swinging me across the ditch, and we walked to the sedan. The driver’s side was crushed where it had slammed into the tree, and Clutch helped me get close enough to see into the car.
A man sprawled over the steering wheel, face resting on the air bag, blood smeared across his face, his open stare blank. Air shuddered from me as I stared at him.
“It’s over, Jailbait. He’ll never hurt you again.”
I shook my head, wishing it was true.
“That’s not Grant.”
Chapter Nine
Creed
Her words knocked the air from my lungs. “What?” Anger flared through me as I reached for the dead man, digging until my fingers touched on his wallet. I flipped it open. “Richard Docker,” I read, letting Clutch take the wallet from my numb fingers. “He was following us.”
Clutch leaned into the car, searching for something.
“Maybe he worked for Grant,” Jailbait offered faintly, her gaze still locked on the dead man’s face. I tugged her away, suddenly sorry I’d brought her to see him. She’d seen too much death.
Clutch wiggled a phone at me. “Let’s see what he was up too.” He swiped at the screen, cursing, “Locked.”
Jailbait sniffed and reached out for the phone. Clutch released it so she could inspect it. She moved back to the car, pausing for a second before grabbing the dead man’s hand. She pressed his finger to the back of the phone, shaking her head when nothing happened. She tried another finger and then let out a breath. “Got it.” She handed the phone to me, unlocked, and I stared at her respectfully.
I scrolled through the phone, finding several texts. “He was definitely Grant’s man,” I muttered, skimming the conversation. “They were watching her, looking for a chance to grab her.”
“Why didn’t they just get their cop friends to come sweep the club if they suspected she was there?” Clutch questioned as he motioned us away from the car.
“Because it would be harder to keep quiet,” I replied with loathing. “This way, no questions.”
“He didn’t text him that he was following us,” Jailbait whispered, thumb brushing the screen as she read the texts. She looked up. “We have a chance to draw him out.”
“Jailbait?” I questioned hesitantly, suddenly leery of her expression.
“We text him back, saying he’s got me, but the car is totaled. Grant is going to come, giving us our chance.”
I exchanged a glance with Clutch who raised his eyebrow. “It could work.”
“I plan to kill him,” I reminded Jailbait, not sugarcoating the truth. Her eyes gleamed as they met mine.
“I hope so.”
I released the breath I’d been holding and nodded. “Then, let’s do this.”
She started typing and I read over her shoulder, “Got the package, car totaled, need a pickup.”
Within seconds a reply came through. She glanced at me, “He wants the location.”
I gave her a brief description, watching her type.
“He’s on his way,” she stated without emotion. “You think he’ll come?” A hint of uncertainty colored her voice.
“He will,” I confirmed. “He won’t risk losing you now that he thinks he has you.” I glanced at Clutch. “Sorry, man, but we’re going to need your bike.” He nodded acceptingly, going to the bike and parking it in the middle of the road.
“What’s he doing?” Jailbait asked, watching as Clutch went to the truck and got in.
“Totaling his bike,” I answered, knowing his pain as he backed the truck up and then drove forward. I felt Jailbait jump as he slammed the truck into the bike. “We need it to look like this guy managed to get us off the road.” She nodded, moving with me as Clutch got out to inspect the damage.
“Good enough?” He called, his expression stoic as he stood in front of his pride and joy, now mangled beyond repair.
“Yeah, let’s get it over here,” I said, helping him to move the bike nearer to the car. “You willing to play me?”
“Hell, yeah,” he replied as we laid the bike on its side. “Where you want to move the truck?”
I nodded to a grove of trees. “There’s a dirt path up there. Probably someone’s hunting trail. We can stash the truck there.”
He nodded, heading back to the truck, as I picked up the helmet I’d tossed aside when I was rushing to get to Jailbait. “I won’t let him hurt you,” I promised her and she nodded.
“I know you won’t.” She bumped against me. “Just make sure you don’t get hurt.” We watched Clutch jog back toward us. “This probably falls under the whole don’t do anything stupid Johnny warned you about,” she mused, startling a surprised laugh out of me.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
She shook her, staring at the black sedan. “How did he know though? He was watching the club and followed us but how did he know to watch the club?”
“Not sure. A question we can ask Grant, but my guess is one of his guys saw our kutte.” I glanced down at her, wondering if I’d led the danger straight to her. “Our emblem is pretty distinctive. It wouldn’t take much digging to find out where we are.”
She ducked her head, looking upset. “I led them to you. This is my fault. You could have been killed because of me.”
“No, no, no, Jailbait. Wrong interpretation,” I replied, drawing her to a stop. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” I said reluctantly. “If he found you, it was because this jacket gave him a place to look.”
“It also provided a safe haven,” she said determinedly, poking me in the chest right over the VP stitched there. “I wouldn’t have had a chance if it wasn’t for you. You went out of your way to save me. I owe you my life.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I was relieved when Clutch came up, snacks in his hand. “Figured we could eat while we waited,” he suggested holding up a stick of beef jerky.
&nbs
p; “Yeah, we just need to do one more thing,” Jailbait mentioned and I glanced at her. “Swap your jacket with the dead guy.”
I grimaced, not relishing the idea of wearing a dead man’s clothes, but nodded my agreement. Clutch helped me peel the jacket off the guy and I folded my own jacket carefully before pulling the other one on. It was tight across the shoulders but would pass from a distance, which is all we needed.
By unspoken agreement, we all went to sit by the mangled bike, Clutch setting his helmet on the ground next to him. “To an old friend,” he toasted, tapping the beef jerky stick against the bike. “We spent many hours together.” He frowned, staring at the ground. “You were my longest relationship and the best ride I’ve ever had.”
“That’s sad on so many levels,” I muttered, patting the fuel tank.
“Can you fix it?” Jailbait asked, plopping on the ground next to Clutch and grabbing a candy bar. He shook his head sadly.
“I can salvage parts,” he answered as he looked his bike over. “Maybe,” he amended.
“I’m really sorry,” she replied, her green eyes huge as she gazed at him remorsefully. “It’s all my fault.”
“Nah,” Clutch said instantly, waving his arm. “It’s the asshole that doesn’t take no for an answer that’s at fault.” He looked up. “And he’ll pay.”
I nodded in agreement, tucking the gun Clutch had pulled from the truck into the waistband of my jeans. “This ends today,” I promised, settling next to them.
Jailbait’s forehead wrinkled. “Is that the same gun?” She pointed to my back. “The one that killed the dog fighter.”
I nodded grimly. “It is. I planned to hide it today.” I glanced around, a sharp breath gusting from me, and Clutch offered me a beef stick.
“Will that cause a problem?” Jailbait questioned, glancing between us. “The gun can tie you to the dog fighter.”
“Yeah, and now it’ll connect two unrelated deaths,” I replied, biting off part of the beef jerky. “It’s only a problem if the gun is found on me,” I reassured her. “That won’t happen.”
Jailbait (Southern Rebels MC Book 1) Page 17